


the woods are lovely, dark and deep (-but I have promises to keep)

by llamallamaduck



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Uchiha Itachi, BAMF Uchiha Mikoto, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fugaku is Smitten, Itachi Has No More Fucks To Give, M/M, Minato is not just a pretty face, Orochimaru does what he wants, Orochimaru is his own warning, Politics, Time Travel, Uchiha Elders are not Good People, Worldbuilding, although his face is indeed very pretty, hi canon bye canon, weirdly enough not itachi-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-09-30 16:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17227067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llamallamaduck/pseuds/llamallamaduck
Summary: Itachi dies - both times- as he lived: trying to help Sasuke and falling horrifically short, while further traumatizing the poor boy in the process. His last thought as he is sealed away is that he had never done right by the person that is, in all the ways that matter, the center of his universe.Then, he wakes up, cradled in his mother's arms, looking at the blurry faces of his parents, as Fugaku proudly names him Itachi.He screams.





	1. the void.

**Author's Note:**

> So, like. A self-indulgent Itachi fix-it fic. Because that boy is mad, and adorable and deserves all the hugs and pocky, and by God he will get them.

Itachi dies in the 4th Shinobi war.

After the debacle of his first death, he is blindingly happy when he is forcefully reincarnated and is able to aid his little brother as he always yearned to.

 

His (second) last moment is spent reconciling with Sasuke, and that alone is worth the pain of the unnatural state his soul is twisted into.

 

After he is sealed, he spends an indeterminate amount of time … floating. Time is immaterial in this place, and he doesn’t spare it much thought.

Without a body, he is free from the neurochemical pitfalls of his psyche. The self-loathing, crippling anxiety, over-inflated sense of responsibility - those are all the trappings of the living. His grief is still with him, however, as well as a myriad of regrets he collected over the years. A truly staggering amount for such a scant handful of years. But they are… muted. Grief fades over time, and the Void is nothing but time.

 

He heals.

 

With a strange sense of detachment, he comes to consider his life as if it were a stranger’s. In a way, it was. He is no longer that terrified, brainwashed child, nor is he the insane, traumatized thirteen-year-old mass-murderer.

 

Detached as he is, he is taken aback at the rush of outrage that washes over him, entirely on little Itachi’s behalf. Emotions are hard to come by in the void so he savors each of them, as he studies the tragedy that was the Uchiha heir.

 

Anger spikes red when he thinks about the crude manipulations of the Uchiha clan. Helplessness and pity swirl together when he considers the Clan’s situation - a disastrous tale of a proud family beset on all sides. Their Sharingan induced trauma didn’t help, and neither did the obsessive love and possessiveness towards their loved ones. Rage quickly joins in, as does bitterness, but anguish overtakes all other emotions soon enough.

 

He is, all told, anguished over little Itachi. The innocent child, traumatized by the war he should never have been exposed to, was then promptly indoctrinated by Konohan propaganda. At four years old, reeling from the bloody reality, he was taught to equate safety with peace, and peace with the wellbeing of Konoha. And if the nebulous concept of Peace didn’t include his Family, well… In the end, only Konoha mattered.

 

For indoctrination to work, fear is required. Fear and intelligence. Whatever else might be said about him, little Itachi was a genius without equal. And geniuses aren’t known for their emotional stability, even under optimal conditions. Pacifist geniuses whose soul didn’t match their fate were easy pickings for the war machine that was a Hidden Village. At six years of age, he was as devout a fanatic as could be.

The only flaw occurred when his indoctrination clashed with his inherent Uchiha madness.

 

Really, Void-Itachi mused, that’s why the Uchiha weren’t used as the perfect army. Objectively speaking, they were a clan of warriors, generations upon generations of people selected for their lethality. As a group, they were more intelligent, physically superior, and had the ultimate fighting Doujutsu. They were also deeply traumatized, almost to a man. Sharingan allows but also forces you to relive your most traumatic experiences. Perfectly. Forever.

Using it in combat means obsessing every clash, every spar, every experience other combatants might want to forget. It makes for unearthly combat experts, that are almost destined to go mad with grief and trauma. That, in turn, makes them easy to manipulate and lead. In theory.

 

As most would-be world leaders in the Elemental Nations soon realized, you cannot, in fact, _effectively_ lead the Uchiha. While it’s true that their biology makes them malleable, it also protects them - in a matter of speaking. Namely, every Uchiha has at least one person they love more than life itself. Because of that, leading the Uchiha will only be possible until your goals don’t clash with the interests of their People.

 

With that in mind, the case of one Uchiha Itachi is particularly interesting. There was a genius on par with Uchiha Madara, who was a textbook-perfect example of fanaticism - up until his little brother was born. Then it all got twisted together, his fanatical love for his brother clashed with the fanatical love for his country, and little Itachi’s mind broke under the strain. What remained was a broken shell of a human, one step away from an automaton, waiting to die, while trying to accomplish his earlier goals without really being aware of what those goals were.

 

He thinks about people hurt by his actions - Sasuke, Shisui, his mother and father. He thinks about all the pointless sacrifices. The pain and madness and broken thoughts. He thinks about the nature of responsibility and the nature of truth.

 

He evolves. He accepts and deals and lets go. He floats in the feeling of peace and serenity, thinks about his life, and forges himself anew.

 

Then, he wakes up, cradled in his mother's arms, looking at the blurry faces of his parents, as Fugaku proudly names him Itachi.

 

He screams.


	2. chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First three months, and already there's chaos.

Itachi screams, and suddenly the previously blurry faces of his parents come into sharp focus, three-tomoe Sharingan swirling furiously. He only has a moment to clearly see the mystified face of Mikoto, before darkness closes in.

 

Itachi is a peculiar newborn. Being a baby doesn’t lend itself to complicated thought. He flits in and out of consciousness, drifting off to sleep mid-thought. His baby-brain is still that of a genius, so it’s able to somewhat cope with the sudden increase in thought complexity - mostly by shutting down every fifteen minutes or so. Limited by his hardware as he is, and unable to cope with the pain of a developing body, he falls into a partial coma, unaware of the chaos his abnormal genius is causing.

 

There is no gain without loss, and the balance to his monstrously developing intellect is his under-developed body.

 

When he’s two months old, his parents, worried about the abnormal Sharingan, decide to summon the best medic in the Clan. The elderly matron examines the tiny infant and concludes that this is an extreme case of the phenomenon that occurs in geniuses in the Uchiha and Nara Clans. Uchiha children typically mentally develop much earlier than average, which helps them handle the strain of their Doujutsu being activated, which typically happens around puberty. She advises them to increase his food intake, but urges them not to worry: when the bulk of his mental development is done, the rest will follow normally.

 

However the situation doesn’t resolve itself, and little Itachi continues to waste away. Third month sees him shedding all the baby fat that is normal for infants at that stage, despite the doubled food portions they feed him. Soon, all his time awake is spent eating the most calorie-intensive food he is capable of digesting, but there is no improvement.

 

The frantic parents order a barrage of tests. The scans show an abnormally developed brain, which presumably is the reason the rest of him is so underdeveloped - all the energy he has is spent for his mental development.

 

The medics have no answer - if something drastic doesn’t change, little Itachi won’t see his first birthday.

 

A flurry of meetings throws the Uchiha Clan into disarray. A team of experts - the best the Uchiha has to offer - is formed, but their Clan was never focused on medicine, and time is precious.

 

When no answer is found, a Clan meeting is held, where Fugaku and the Clan Elders are presented with the facts: seek outside help, or let Itachi die. Mikoto is in attendance, face frozen in a mask of serenity, as she listens the Elders scoff at the mere notion. The tradition is clear, they say. No outsider may come in contact with an Uchiha child before it had undertaken the Rite of Passage. No single child is worth the risk of the outsiders learning Clan secrets.

 

She raised fluidly and informs them she will see them all dead to a man before she lets her baby starve to death because of Clan pride. With a bow she sweeps from the room, steps measured, face composed, leaving sputtering Elders and a stunned husband.

 

Fugaku swiftly brings the meeting to a close, all but ignoring the fuming Elders calling for sanction for this threat. He enters his home, head spinning. The scene that awaits him tears his heart anew: His wife, his One, his Moon and Stars, stands vigil next to his emaciated son. She looks as regal as a Queen, even half-mad with worry and fear, face twisted in a rictus of rage and determination. She has said her piece and was never one to repeat herself.

 

He hears agonized cries of his child and thinks - they will see him dead, they want me to kill him instead of asking for help. With soft steps and a heavy heart, he moves to stand behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame. “ _Fuck_ the Clan and _fuck_ the Elders”, he whispers viciously, and when she turns around the love in her eyes cements his determination. By the grace of the Gods, he married a Queen, and he will _for once_ be worth all she has seen fit to bestow upon him.


	3. Topsy-turvy world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an emergency clan announcement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring badass old ladies, because I like my cliches. Also commas everywhere because I dearly need a beta, and don't know where to get one.

Mikoto spends the night praying at a shrine she improvised in the nursery, once it became obvious they would be spending exorbitant amounts of time there. Fugaku always thought her religion a charming idiosyncrasy but now finds himself grateful his wife has found this outlet for herself. He is in dire need of something similar. Alas, no rest for the wicked, as they say, he thinks, mind skirting carefully around all the reasons why that saying applies _oh so well_. Instead, he settles down to a semi-meditative pose next to the door and plots.

 

The Uchiha are not good plotters, no matter what the people think. Their minds are too straightforward, too literal. Logical.

 

This kind of situation, however, requires him to attempt to think outside the box. The only solutions his, oh so very logical mind leaves him with are in the category of revenge he can enact once Itachi dies, which obviously means his reasoning is impaired. His son emphatically does _not_ need to die, Mikoto does _not_ need to burn the village down in her rage, and Fugaku does not need to spend the rest of his days _as a missing-nin_. Simple. He sighs.

 

Mikoto finishes praying a couple of hours before dawn and rises fluidly, uncaring of the ache of abused muscles. Fugaku quiets his tangled thoughts and watches her as she feeds Itachi, puts him back in his crib and nonchalantly starts sharpening her blades. His mind settles slightly. Plotting might not be his forte, but preparations for impending violence _very much are_.

 

He rises, mirroring her movements, as they get ready. The routine is familiar, comfortable as few things are at this topsy-turvy time, which works to settle him further. The finishing touches to his most harmless looking outfit are his favorite pair of kodachi on his hips, and a tanto on his back, both distinctive for their lack of hand-guards or handle wrappings. His thoughts are somewhat settled, but rage is ever present, bubbling in the back of his mind, which is when any genjutsu master is at his most dangerous.

 

Mikoto joins him at the door, wearing a traditional Uchiha short sleeved kimono. I was a gift from Kushina, and is, therefore, dripping in hidden seals. Poisoned senbon keep her hair pinned up in a bun, and each individual piece of jewelry has an unobtrusive exploding seal carved into it. The wickedly sharp looking blades crossed on her back look all but ornamental — a true feat on a kenjutsu mistress of her renown. The stark contrast of a pair of katanas at her back against the demure silk of the kimono makes for a terrifyingly alluring image.

 

She is holding Itachi, wrapped up in a thick, double-sided silk wrap, which was a gift from Minato, and therefore has a myriad of seals stitched at the lining, most notably the Hirashin. Really, he muses, it’s very useful to have friends who are seal masters. He or Mikoto only need to activate the alarm seal both of them have tattooed on their elbows, and Minato will be sure to snatch Itachi away to safety.

 

He can’t help but flair his Sharingan, inscribing the moment forever in his memory. They are glorious like this - the epitome of a shinobi family. A step brings him closer to his wife and son, and he reaches to fold them into a hug that has too much desperation for his liking. He doesn’t know what this day will bring, but it will be pivotal as few things in his life have been. He has stepped off the paved road he was raised to follow, and the future is terrifying in its uncertainty.

 

Almost involuntarily, he squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling sharply, fighting down the panic that bubbles up in his gut. He struggles to control his breath for a long moment and scrambles to regain a semblance of emotional control. Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. Each breath brings a wave of his wife’s scent, and he basks in her warmth as panic ebbs away to manageable levels.

 

Mikoto is the first to step away, which doesn’t surprise him. She was always the stronger one.

 

“We are ready, my love, and we are together. The world will break before we do. What is one clan against that?”

 

Fugaku can’t help the crooked smile pulling at his lips, nor does he particularly want to. His family has seen all too few of his smiles, and he prays he - they- will live long enough to rectify that.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Faces blank, the couple sweeps through the clan compound, and climb the raised dais at the edge of the biggest courtyard used for the clan announcements. He activates the seal that calls for an emergency meeting, and they stand, waiting for their clansmen.

 

They don’t have to wait long, and no more than two hours later every Uchiha present in the village stands quietly in the courtyard, trepidation evident in stoic faces and tense frames. Emergency meetings in times of war are, after all, very seldom cheerful occasions. The Elders are present, naturally, and present a picture of wounded dignity. The rest of the clan give them a wider berth than usual, sensing the palpable tension between them and the Clan Head.

 

 

 

Fugaku steels himself, and starts to speak, taking care to make his voice carry to the ends of the courtyard.

 

“If everyone is present, I declare this emergency meeting opened.

 

“I have called for this meeting because of somewhat personal reasons, that nevertheless have serious Clan implications. I am aware I haven’t been available for Clan matters as I should have been in the months following my son’s birth. I will share the reasons for this now, as they are highly pertinent for the matter at hand.

 

“As some of you might be aware of, my son Itachi has activated his fully matured Sharingan at birth. While this was unprecedented, Mikoto and I didn’t worry and were justifiably grateful and proud. On top of that, he shows signs of an extraordinary rate of mental development and has all the hallmarks of a once-in-a-generation genius. We thought then, as we think now - that our firstborn was destined for greatness.

 

“In the months following his birth, however, we learned of the darker side of this great boon. The rate of mental development is such a burden on a developing infant’s system that he is quite literally burning energy quicker than he can consume it. Mikoto and I called in healers as soon as we noticed something was amiss, and our Clan’s best and brightest all had the same thing to say: either we consult medics outside of our clan, or we let Itachi die slowly of starvation and organ failure.

 

"Yesterday, I consulted our esteemed elders, and they were quite unanimous in their belief that the risk of outsiders learning clan secrets outweighs the cost of my son’s life.

 

“My wife and I, as you can imagine, disagree. Vehemently. And there we have the crux of the matter.

 

"I have decided you, the Clan, are owed a say in this matter. As I see it, two things can happen.

 

"The first scenario is that you agree with the Elder Council, in which case I would advise you to try to eliminate Mikoto and me here and now. Fail to do so, and I will stand guard to prevent someone interrupting my wife while she sees if the Elders will be more amenable to reason, or if she will get to fulfill the promise of cutting them all down to a man.

 

“The second scenario is that you, like me, feel that we are not slaves to Tradition, and, perhaps more importantly, that we are not the type of Clan that guards our secrets closer than we guard our children. In which case, I remain as your Clan Head, and you expect arguably radical changes in how the Uchiha Clan continues into the future.

 

“That is all I have come here to say.”

 

 

 

His clansmen look increasingly bewildered as he talks, and one by one their stoic facades break, showing uncertainty in some or anger in others. The Elders are all but radiating disapproval, but they don’t show any fear or unease. Fugaku realizes with dizzying certainty, that they can’t even imagine this situation not turning out their way. He is, in contrast, grimly aware nothing is ever as simple as that.

 

He knows his clansmen - is intimately aware of their pain and loss. More to the point, he knows that they are furiously re-evaluating their own children’s safety in the Clan. Indeed, if the firstborn son of the Clan Head isn’t valuable enough to save, then their children’s standing is much less certain than they previously thought. There is no satisfaction to be gained from this harsh knowledge. He loathes that his Clan - _family_ -is forced into such gruesome calculations. Delusions aside, this is a lose-lose scenario for the Elders. No matter what happens to Itachi, and by extension Mikoto and him, the Clan will not stand for their children not receiving necessary care due to paranoia. He forces the bitterness down and focuses instead on the familiar sensation of his blood that sings with the potential for violence in the very near future.

 

 

 

Tamako, a wizened, old, battle-ax of a kunoichi, steps forward, face still as stone. She inclines her head politely to the Clan Head, and then the Elders. There is a steely glint in her eye that fades to sorrow as she looks at the sickly child held securely in his mother’s arms. Her back straightens even further, and she turns to the Elders.

 

“Would you like to add something, honored Elders, before the Clan decides?”

 

The Elder at the forefront of their group, a handsome older man called Kazuo, nods his head slightly, radiating icy disdain.

 

“This whole meeting is a disgrace. Our esteemed Clan Head is making a spectacle of himself. He sought our guidance, as is appropriate, but when faced with the truth of the matter, he chose to be selfish. He attempts to shriek his duty by calling for this sham of a meeting. The Traditions we have all lived by since the finding of our great Clan are not ambiguous on this matter: No Uchiha child will be examined by outsiders until they have undergone the Rite of Passage.

 

“Every Clan member since our inception has had to abide by these rules, and they are what lead the Uchiha to greatness. Our Clan Head has forgotten sacrifices we have all had to make. He has forgotten the obligation he took upon himself when he became our leader. He condemns our children for the sake of his own, not knowing if the outsiders can even provide the assistance his son needs. He has forsaken his duty, his honor, and his responsibility. In other words, he has forsaken the Uchiha way. ”

 

 

 

Fugaku feels his control slip further as Kazuo continues to speak, and is all but vibrating with the need to let blood wash away the insults given, but is held in place by his wife’s soft hand.

 

She hands him Itachi, and steps forward, features set in a mask of kindness and serenity.

 

“I would like to address that, if I may. I will keep it brief, as I have little patience of the endless repetitions of the same tired dogma. Traditions are not what makes us great. Every Clan has traditions. The Kaguya Clan tradition, for example, has every child of six face an enemy and either kill them and partake of their flesh, or die in the attempt.

 

“We, here, are what makes the Uchiha great. We are a proud Clan and we have reason to be. But we are all aware that, what makes us fight, what makes us endure the weight of the Sharingan memories, what makes us such fierce warriors, is that we do it all in defense of our family. We seem to have forgotten that the Clan is, in fact, a family, not some abstract institution we are in service of. And now my family members want me to kill my own son, rather than ask his godparents for help.

 

“I told them then, as I tell you now, that it will undoubtedly break my heart to raise my blades to family, but I will do it gladly if it increases the chance of my son living.

 

She sweeps her eyes across the gathered faces, taking care to meet as many pairs of eyes as she can.

 

“I love you all, but I would see you dead before I let my son die in agony. _For nothing_.”

 

She nods, lips curved in the same sweet smile, and steps back to reclaim her son. As she takes Itachi, she glances up at Fugaku, who is looking at her, his silly expression matching one he had when they were children and she told him she wouldn’t marry him because she and Kushina were going to be Dragon Pirate Lords, but allowed he could come along and be their princess because he’s so pretty.

 

She elbows him subtly, and he recovers himself, face slipping back into grim blankness.

 

Fugaku forces himself to focus on The Very Serious Situation, and not his incredible, deadly wife, who just informed the entirety of the arguably strongest clan in Konoha, that she would kill them all if they cross her. With a smile on her face. Right. Focus now. Flail later.

 

“I believe we have said all there is to say. Do you agree?”

 

Kazuo inclines his head in agreement, with a calm, confident air of someone with the Gods, or in this case Clan Traditions, on their side.

 

Fugaku shifts his gaze to Tamako, who is by this point the de-facto spokesperson for the Clan and waits for her word. The Elders bristle at the implication that her approval is needed for proceeding further, but Fugaku doesn’t care even the slightest bit. To his mind, if anyone’s opinion is redundant in this meeting, it certainly isn’t Tamako’s, who wields more authority when ordering her groceries from terrified Genin than Fugaku on his best day.

 

Although her face is inscrutable as ever, she conveys grim resignation with her short, sharp nod.

 

“Then let us proceed. In the interest of avoiding _a spectacle_ , we will simplify the vote. Move to the right of the field if you agree with the elders, and would see me replaced as Clan Head, and to the left if you agree with me. Those undecided can stay in the middle. Take a few minutes to think and deliberate amongst yourselves, if you feel it necessary.”

 

The Clan doesn’t move, and quiet, urgent buzz of conversation breaks out immediately, which Fugaku thinks is a good sign. Anything that makes the Elders frown is good in his books, in his opinion, he snarks inwardly.

 

This is it. The ultimatum has been made, and now we all have to live with the consequences. He feels lighter as if drawing a clear line in the sand lifted some burden he has been carrying. Shifting to Mikoto, he pauses to admire her smile that has shifted into something a great deal more bloodthirsty. He feels the subtle flex of her Chakra and knows she is ready to activate the alarm seal and get Itachi out of danger at the first sign of trouble. He flashes his Sharingan once more, to remember her like this. Itachi is awake, to his surprise, and is watching him with hazy, exhausted eyes, that nonetheless hold a startling intelligence. He smiles at him, hoping he manages to convey his love and pride for once and strokes his all-too-thin cheek. Stealing one last glance of his One, he steels his spine and wipes his expression of any emotion.

 

Turning around he watches his agitated clansmen arguing under their breaths, all pretense at stoicism abandoned.

 

“Vote, now, please.”

 

 

 

The clamoring stops and silence descends, thick and foreboding. Tamako stops whatever terror she was unleashing at the unfortunate souls standing in her vicinity, and without a care moves to the left of the yard, the click-clack of her cane echoing in the quiet. This starts an exodus, and in no time at all the entirety of the Uchiha are crowded together on the left of the yard. The sight of so many people - shinobi - squished as far as they could go, should be comical to Fugaku, and yet all he feels is devastating relief. Tamako, who by all rights should be at the back of the crowd, is by some unholy magic standing in front, flinty gaze of disapproval focused for once not on Fugaku, but on the Elders.

 

Elders who, to Fugaku’s somewhat hysterical glee, are so blindsided by this turn of events that they lost the ever-present air of moral superiority and are as close to gaping as they ever were. Which is not much, admittedly. But still.

 

 

 

Before he has gathered himself enough to address them, Tamako turns to face him.

 

“May I speak?” She asks, perfectly conveying the sentiment of indulgent politeness.

 

He nods, the reaction automatic by this point. He has, after all, spent most of his adult life being browbeaten by this woman on everything from his attire to the appropriate time for the clan children to start with live steel kunai.

 

Taking his agreement as her due, she continues smoothly.

 

“I believe I speak for the Clan when I say we will not see an Uchiha child, or indeed any child, die if it can be prevented. On a less altruistic note, I would like to remind our esteemed Elders there is little honor in meaningless sacrifice. We have all lost what was dear to us for the good of the Clan. I, however, see no value in glorifying the act itself as if it were a sign of moral superiority, instead of a necessary evil. Whatever else might happen, I will stand in defense of our Clan Heir. Indeed, against the Clan itself, if necessary.

 

She pauses, face shifting into something less unreadable, and a great deal more sardonic.

 

“If our venerated Elders feel that means I have ‘forsaken the Uchiha way’, I would humbly submit that our disagreement might best be resolved by means of blood and fire. As per the time-honored tradition of the Uchiha clan.”

 

Fugaku has no earthly way of figuring the right, or in fact any response, and is saved to his relief by his wife. Mikoto, looking as unbothered as ever, steps forward with dainty steps and, to his delight, offers Tamako a warriors salute. Tamako, of course, returns it, and it should look ridiculous, it really, really should, but it doesn’t. It looks dignified and all the best shades of terrifying.

 

Mind buzzing with giddy relief, he waits for Mikoto to step back, and inclines his head to Tamako, trying for dignity but probably ending up closer to deference.

 

“I thank you for your support. I wish to clarify, for the peace of mind of those who feel this is a lesser-of-two-evils kind of choice: I do not plan on abolishing our traditions or uprooting our way of life. What I will be doing in the following months and years, is examining our way of life closely, and eliminating those traditions that hamper our progress and well-being. I ask for your patience, for this will be a turbulent time for the Uchiha, and mistakes will be made. I cannot say I will not be without fault, but I promise to try, and I promise to listen.

 

“That being said, the only major change I plan on implementing right away is to change the role of the Elder Council to a strictly advisory role, with a word of advice. My restraint and my patience are all but gone. Cross me in the matter of my wife and son again and I will dance on your ashes with a smile of my face and a song in my heart. But for the grace of my wife, I might have allowed you to convince me the best way forward is to let my son die, and that is a shame I will carry with me to my grave. Your actions in this matter lost you my respect, and it will be up to you to earn it, or not, on your own merit.

 

“With that, I beg leave, as my son is awake and is in dire need of sustenance.”


	4. some say the world will end in fire, (-- some say in ice.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some say the world will end in fire,  
> some in ice.  
> from what i've tasted of desire,  
> i hold with those that favor fire.  
> but if it had to perish twice,  
> i think i know enough of hate  
> to say that for destruction ice  
> is also great  
> and would suffice. 
> 
> frost 
> 
> basically, the theme to the whole story. more or less.

 

Mikoto and Fugaku leave the yard, uncaring of the standoff that's occurring between the de-fanged Elder Council and the emotionally wrought clan. Tempers are high, but Fugaku has full faith in Tamako’s no-nonsense approach to life. She will make sure no significant amount of blood is spilled. Probably. Fugaku can’t bring himself to care overmuch, because while this was undoubtedly a victory, it feels - hollow. All this talk and effort, all this energy spent, and they are no closer to finding a cure for Itachi. He can’t remember when he last slept or eaten, and yet the very thought of taking a couple of hours to rest while his son is dying brings forth such powerful waves of anxiety, his exhaustion fades into an afterthought.

His son is dying and he is wasting time in pointless _meetings_ , for fuck's sake _what is he going to do_ -

He stops himself from spiraling further into madness by the skin of his teeth and digs crescent-shaped wounds into his palms. Calm.

Focusing, he realizes they have made their way home, with him none the wiser, and Mikoto is busy feeding Itachi, who is all but nodding off. _Fuck_ they missed a window of time in which to feed him because he was _fighting for the right to keep him alive-_ No. Stop. You can panic once you’re dead. You don’t have _the right._

 

He busies himself with paperwork, dealing with the immediate fallout of the meeting. There are no specific forms for deciding to rebel against your clan’s rigid hierarchical structure and staging a coup, but he’s feeling creative. All of it is likely going to be reworked at a later time, but he is tired and angry, and this is providing a measure of amusement he sorely needs.

 

After he is done with his foray into passive-aggressive accountancy, he feels stable enough to tackle the more important issue. He must not allow himself to be bogged down by bureaucracy in the following weeks. To that end, he decides to split the duties of leading the Clan, appointing a part-time leader to deal with the bulk of administrative duties. After some deliberation, he chooses Mikoto’s cousin Yasuhiko. As a nephew to the previous Clan Head, Mikoto’s father, he has the pedigree for it, which would appease the more traditional elements of the Clan. More importantly, he is a well-liked Jōnin, and arguably the third most well rounded Uchiha shinobi. The only fault Fugaku could find, is that the affable, easygoing nature of the man could be problematic when establishing authority.

 

With a stroke of genius and a vicious sense of comeuppance, he appoints an advisor for Yasuhiko, and tries not to dwell too much at the ridiculous looking title of ‘Advisor to the Intermittent Clan Head’. Tamako will finally get what’s coming to her. Really, he should just quit being the Kami-be-damned Clan Head, and name Tamako his successor. The only thing staying his hand is the certainty she would laugh in his face, and then make his life an absolute misery for however long she deems an appropriate punishment. No, the Dragon Lady is perfect for the hilarity that is the Advisor to the Intermittent Clan Head position, even if only because she’d be doing it either way. This way, Yasuhiko gets to be the affable face of the Uchiha clan, who also gets to wield the fearsome weapon that is Tamako Uchiha Stare Of Disapproval. Good cop - check. Bad cop - check. And the best part - nobody will get far enough past Tamako to bother Fugaku.

 

That bit of business nicely done, he takes a moment to settle. He is perfectly aware his manic cheerfulness is a way of coping, and that the anguish and rage will not stay repressed for much longer, but he has to ride this wave of energy before he crashes. He turns to check on his wife and finds her staring blankly at her katana, a truly lost expression on her face. He sighs. This situation is taking a toll on both of them but is truly going against the grain of Mikoto’s very much family-oriented nature.

“Mikoto, light of my life, put the weapon away. You have been terrifying enough for one day.” He tries for humor but falls pathetically short. Nonetheless, his feeble attempts have accomplished their goal and Mikoto jerks from her semi-catatonic state. With a wry smile, she shakes her head, and sheaths the blade, putting it carefully within grabbing distance. “Paperwork?” She raises an incredulous eyebrow. “You’re doing paperwork. Truly?”

Fugaku feels a manic bubble of laughter rising, and he doesn’t even try to choke it back. He cackles and looks at the small stack of paperwork he completed. “You will be so proud of me, my love. Hell, _Kushina_ will be so proud of me. I haven’t written such an extensive amount of bullshit in my whole life combined. Not to mention, this will be the last stack of paperwork for us, for the foreseeable months. Im appointing an Intermittent Clan Head.

He sobers sharply, thinking about why this appointee was so necessary. “We can’t afford to be fucking around with the administration right now. We almost didn’t feed Itachi, and I can’t - I can’t -

He slams his mouth shut and takes a deep breath. “I can’t, ‘Koto.”

Mikoto heart breaks a little more at the how utterly lost her strong, brave husband sounds. Nevertheless, neither of them can afford the time to deal with their hysteria in anything approaching a healthy manner. “You hadn’t called me that in years, darling. Getting sentimental in your old age?”

Fugaku is too tired for any real amusement, but he appreciates the effort. “If I wasn’t before, I certainly am now. You were glorious today, my love. A true mother-dragon defending her hoard. Kushina will be so sad she missed it.”

Mikoto smile loses some of its strain, and she summons the strength to get up and join her husband at the desk.

“What are we doing next?”

 

Fugaku warms a little at Mikoto’s proximity, as per the norm, and he tries to focus his screaming mind. “I have to summon Matsushima and Fumiko.” He checks his chakra levels and sighs. Summoning was a Chakra intensive exercise at the best of times, and now he has to summon both leaders of the Crane clan. He has enough chakra for this, but only just. He looks at Mikoto imploringly, and after a moment of deliberation, she reluctantly passes him a soldier pill, lips twisted in a worried frown. Using soldier pills after a certain point of physical exhaustion stops being a useful aid, and starts becoming a last resort type of gamble, used only in life-threatening situations when doing otherwise might as well be a death sentence. She doesn’t think Fugaku is there yet, but, well. She’s been wrong before.

Anger surges, sharp and metallic, and it’s all Mikoto can do to freeze and not let herself show it. It will compromise Fugaku further, which is just about the least productive thing she could do, short of killing him herself.

She knows better than to try to repress her overwhelming rage, so she lets it run its course, savors every second of it, feels it burn under her skin, fight to twist her features from the typical kind smiles into something altogether less pleasant. She won’t allow it, of course, but it’s a heady feeling, pleasing on a visceral level. Mikoto might be kind, but she’s Uchiha, and fire is in her blood.

 

She tears her attention back to her husband, that is breathing deeply, trying to not minimize the damage the synthetic chakra influx will cause to his overwrought body. She admires him for it, even through the red haze of rage and grief that seems to be her constant companion. She will never _not_ admire him, her brave, passionate husband, who suffers so much for his beliefs, spares himself no amount of pain if he deems his cause worthy. It makes him a good man, but an exploitable one. The same is true for her, and both of them are prone to getting caught up in self-sacrifice in Fugaku’s or introspection and self-doubt in Mikoto’s case, that they lose all sense of perspective. Should a miracle occur and they somehow survive this clusterfuck of misery and _pointlessness_ she will make damn sure there are safeguards in place, and people they trust to pull them back.

 

Her heart races and panic is starting to make itself known amongst all the rage. Fugaku is still struggling with the soldier pill, his naturally pale skin ashen grey, hair damp with sweat, plastered to his strained face. Fucking _hell_. If he doesn’t get better _really fucking soon_ , she’s summoning Minato, and getting him out of this _fucking house_. And then setting it on fire, because _fuck_ this house.

 

His breath starts going erratic, and he pauses for too long between breaths. _Fuck_. She grabs his shaking hands, and squeezes herself behind him, pressing her chest to his back firmly. Wrapping her arms around him, she places two small palms on his ribcage and presses down in tempo with her own theatrical inhale. Inhale - _press down_. Exhale. Inhale - _press down_. Exhale.

To her relief, his breath evens out fairly quickly, and she doesn’t need to press down to get his lungs to cooperate, but his warmth and steady breathing are soothing. So she stays, plastered to his back, arms wrapped around his broad frame in a loose hug and breathes, hoping they could deal with this _one fucking thing_ without it turning into an emergency.

Her eyes slip shut against her will, and she loses track of time. Inhale, Exhale.

 

When she comes to, it's to the worried, guilty face of Fugaku, as he leans over her. She’s lying down, on a bed they had brought to the nursery, and Fugaku looks like death warmed over. _Fuck._

“What happened?”

 

“You were helping me breathe, then got so focused on your _own_ breathing you fell asleep. Because that’s where our lives are right now. Neither one of us has the mental capacity to breathe properly, without either forgetting how or passing out from the effort. Fucking _hell._

 

“How long was I out?”

 

“About three hours or so, two of which I was likely twitching on the floor because that’s how I came to. There might have been a minor seizure somewhere, but I can’t be sure. I checked on Itachi, and it seems he didn’t wake up yet, but I managed to drip some formula down his throat.

 

“Matsushima and Fumiko send their regards, with a note that our codependency is reaching truly amusing levels. I could keep up the summoning for about a minute so I just informed them of the essentials - I’m stepping down temporarily as the Acting Clan Head, so I can focus on Itachi, we staged a coup and disbanded the Elder Council, and our son will live or we most likely will not.”

 

Mikoto huffs a tired approximation of a laugh. “Have you eaten anything?”

 

“I chopped up some ration bars and crushed them in some milk and a whole lot of sugar, and forced it down my throat while I was feeding Itachi. It was, quite possibly, the most revolting thing that had ever passed my lips, and that is a hard sell for a shinobi that fought in two wars. _Fucking hell_ that concoction was worryingly disgusting. But it had the caloric and nutritional value of around six full meals, and it probably prevented my heart from stopping, so, you know. Worked.”

 

Mikoto couldn’t help herself. She looked at her husband that has literally worked himself to a state where a metric for food quality is whether his heart stopped or not, and roared in laughter.

Fugaku’s heart skipped a beat. The entire village knew that Mikoto was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. An epitome of a dignified Uchiha lady. She was unfailingly polite, well mannered and always moved with impeccable grace and poise. Her steps are dainty, she never cries, her each movement is silent poetry of motion, laugh a faint tinkling of bells.

Fugaku knows, however, that while most of that is true, Mikoto’s laugh is very much _not_ like faint tinkling of bells. It is a laugh of an old, drunk sailor, roaring his amusement to the heavens. If bulls could laugh, that’s how they would go about it. Growing up under the pressures of being the oldest daughter of the Clan head, an un-ladylike laugh was very much Not Acceptable, so Mikoto listened and learned to imitate the tinkling, meaningless noise she now used in public. It became something of a measuring stick of the level of trust she held in an individual.

It took Fugaku almost five years to hear her laugh properly, and he remembers the exact day the first time he saw his beautiful, dainty fiancé, doubled over and roaring in deep-bellied laughter, the deep rasp of it incongruous with the soft, high tenor of her voice. Had he had any doubts as to the strength of his love for her, they would have died a swift death. But he did not, so it only served to transform it to adoration, the same kind he feels now, even half dead from exhaustion. He is sure the stupid, besotted smile is etched on his face, but he wouldn’t change that even if he could.

 

He sits down before his knees give out, and waits patiently for his love to calm herself, her brief moment of levity doing more to heal him then any medic could do. When the last roar rings out, and the wheezing is over, he hands her his handkerchief to dry her tears, and sits back, closes his eyes and greedily soaks up the last moments of peace that he is going to get in the next while. All too soon, he feels the sharp tug of responsibility, and he sighs.

 

“We need to call Minato and Kushina. I sent out the paperwork and as of right now I have next to no duties in the Clan until the situation with Itachi is resolved.”

Mikoto’s expressions sharpens, all the traces of her previous joy wiped away. She nods, sharply, and stands up to get Itachi.

 

With no small amount of trepidation, he activates the alarm seal in a specific pattern, letting their friends know the situation isn’t truly dangerous, but still urgent enough to not bother with sending a Genin with a message.

 

He knows they won’t wait long, and is indeed proven right when in less then a minute the nursery sees two new visitors, arriving with a tell-tale golden flash of the Hirashin. They’ve been sparring, he notes absently, as most of his mind is busy dreading the upcoming conversation.

Minato and Kushina are, for once, not bothering with their usual play at harmlessness, and are instead standing in subtle but unmistakable beginnings of a taijutsu stance, hands hovering over weapons, eyes cataloging their surroundings sharply.

Kushina is the first to break her stance, and she straightens, eyes widening in alarm when she spots Fugaku’s slumped figure and ashen pallor. She curses viciously and wastes no time in kneeling next to him, scanning him for injuries.

“What happened?” Her tone is sharp, and the note of worry is unmistakable. Minato doesn’t say anything but his face darkens, eyes glinting dangerously. This is the face of the man Iwa has a flee-on-sight order from, and the danger his two closest friends are emitting somewhat incongruously has Fugaku relaxing. He feels the dread and adrenaline disappearing, replaced by bone-deep gratitude. They are here. Itachi is safe, no matter what.

 

He tries to speak but without adrenaline to push him on, he finds words are stuck in his throat. He raises a hand to stop the increasingly shrill inquiries coming from Kushina and meets her eyes, silently begging for silence. His head is spinning, and he needs to say this.

 

He clears his throat and rasps. “We’re fine. Not injured. ‘M just tired.”

Kushina is seemingly struck speechless at this understatement, and Minato glances over, worry overtaking the fury in his stormy eyes. “Where are Mikoto and Itachi?”

Mikoto chooses this moment to glide in, Itachi sleeping in her arms, swaddled in his silk wrap. She took a moment to refresh herself slightly, but the circles around her eyes and the wrinkled formal kimono, make her look nothing like the perfectly put together lady she normally appears to be. She manages a bright smile for her best friend nonetheless, and finally, Minato unclenches from the battle ready stance into something much less threatening.

 

Kushina, however, found her voice, and it’s only the sleeping baby that keeps her from screeching. “What the actual _fuck_ , ‘Koto? _What happened?_ ”

Fugaku rasps a chuckle, the bitter sound serving to alarm his friends even further. Mikoto’s face crumples, and she all but collapses in Kushina’s arms. The emotional floodgate she has been keeping inside breaks, now that they’re safe.

“ _Kami,_ Kushina, I'm so glad you’re here.”

The redhead wastes no time in engulfing the smaller woman in a suffocating hug, mindful of Itachi, and she leads the sobbing mother to the cot. In no time at all, she’s got an armful of sleeping baby and a sobbing best friend in her lap. She looks up at Minato, fear, and worry twisting her lips. Minato shrugs helplessly and kneels next to Fugaku, blue eyes beseeching.

“Fugaku, _please._ Surely we can help? Get someone for you? Get you out? Fuck it, brew you a kami-damned cup of tea?”

Fugaku wheezes out a pathetic type of a chuckle, and Minato tries no not to panic further.

“Believe it or not, we have good news. Well, we have terrible news, but with some good sprinkled on top.”

“How much do you know about Itachi?”

Minato’s gaze sharpens, and face blanks. “I don’t understand the question,” he says carefully, weighing every word.

Fugaku shakes his head sharply, fighting to stay awake. “It's a long story, and I will likely pass out before I can finish it in full. I will try to give you the cliff notes, as it were. Please don’t interrupt until I am done. “

 

“Itachi is dying.” He ignores the twin shocked gasps and the look of outraged heartbreak on his friends’ faces. “It was confirmed it two days ago. His body is spending too much energy, not developing right. Brain too big. Our medics aren’t the best though, so I petitioned to break tradition and get him outside treatment. Elders said no. Didn’t even think about it, the bastards.”

The killing intent coming from the usually genial blonde was a true work of art, made more notable by the expressionless face. He can see his friend clench his teeth, almost physically holding back his inquiries.

“Mikoto disagreed, and told them to fuck themselves. Lots of threats. Very sexy. This morning I held a Clan gathering. Told them to choose between me as Clan Head or the Elders because I'm not killing my son. Tamako was their spokesperson. They voted in our favor. I disbanded the Elders. I then appointed a temporary Clan Head and stepped down from active duty until we cure Itachi.

As for our condition, we didn’t sleep at all for around three days, and I had to inform our Cranes, so I took a soldier pill. Didn’t agree with me, had a seizure. Had to stay awake to tell you though. If I die, Mikoto’s position isn’t secure. Danzō would throw a party. Right — that. Danzō. Don’t trust him. He hates us. Root is a torture factory. The man is a functional sadistic psychopath ‘sfar I can tell. Enabled, too.”

 

Minato watches his friend fade away into unconsciousness, and takes a deep breath, compartmentalizing furiously. He is an old hand at this, as can be attested by the fact he is up and running after having killed hundreds of people in minutes less than a week ago. He struggles now, however. The sheer banality of the situation, the pointlessness is getting to him. All this waste, the village is down two of her most promising Jōnin, and they are smack dab in the first months of war - when the fighting is at it’s most enthusiastic. Most of his anger is directed at the Uchiha Elder Council,which is, to his mind, completely appropriate. Not terribly productive, admittedly. But still. His godson, the closest thing he has to a child, was condemned to a terrible death by his own family.

 

Minato is a ruthless man, cheery facade aside. Being left in the orphanage by a dying immigrant from Iwa, right in between the two wars, didn’t make for a very well balanced person. Label of a ‘genius’ aside, being the best student in the class filled with Clan Heirs meant he trained day and night, well past the point of what was healthy or even sane. It was greatness or nothing for Minato, which he was well aware of since he decided on this path. So he molded himself with terrifying single-mindedness, devoting himself exclusively to his craft. He didn’t have any hobbies, barely ate and slept, and his outwardly cheery demeanor and willingness to help anyone who asked, coupled with his overwhelming competence meant he was too intimidating for most people to properly befriend.

His social life consisted a host of somewhat close acquaintances, and a gaggle of shinobi looking up to him, but unsurprisingly few close friends. The only avenue he allowed himself, the only pursuit not devoted to killing and maiming was Fūinjutsu because the sealing arts were - beautiful. They made sense, were riveting, and beautiful — the unlikely union of art and science. It was through sealing he made his first and greatest friend - Kushina. Oh, they were friendly before, she was an acquaintance closer than most, but without a basis for friendship, they would have remained only that. Kushina was, however, a true Fūinjutsu prodigy, and was apprenticed straight after the academy to the greatest living sealing master alive - Uzumaki Mito-sama. They bonded over the ensuing explosions and experiments, and Kushina quickly became his best friend — only close friend, even. With Kushina came lovely Mikoto and surly Fugaku, and the two of them had front row seats to the most unorthodox courtship the village ever witnessed. The whirlwind Uzumaki decided he was hers, in whatever capacity, and Minato-of-before was completely confused as to what was expected of him—was she looking for a best friend, a person to do seals with, or just a boytoy to keep her bed warm. For a while there, he wasn’t sure what Mikoto and Fugaku’s role in the whole business was, but he was nothing if not open-minded. If his - partner? Best friend? Benevolent overlord? _-_ wanted to include her exceedingly pretty best friends in their arrangement, well. As long as everybody was definitely on the same page. To that end, he made what he thought were completely reasonable and mild inquiries, which resulted in Fugaku blushing with the heat of a thousand suns (and really, that pale Uchiha skin was unfairly fetching) and one of the only times he saw a version of Uchiha flailing on the seemingly unflappable Mikoto. Kushina, on her end, found the whole thing not only absolutely hilarious, but something of a deal-maker and Minato’s fate was pretty much sealed. 

When the dust settled, Minato found himself with a wife, a set of (entirely platonic, but thank you for offering) best friends, and a godson on the way for good measure. All in all, a paradise he wasn’t even aware he wanted. All of which is now threatened, and at a time when Minato is not at his most humane. 

 

He had just returned from the battlefield last week, from the battle where he deployed his Hirashin offensively for the first time, using it to kill an entire platoon of enemies in seconds. He has seen and done some truly awful things, but he can’t remember being this angry. There is nothing good about war, he understands that. But there is something.. fair about it. It's an indiscriminate tragedy, of a sort. Once you step on a battlefield, it’s kill or be killed, and that speaks to man’s primal nature.

The Uchiha situation combines everything in life he despises - discrimination, ignorance, pride, emotional blackmail, the list goes on.He would like nothing more than to just spend a few weeks placing a discrete Hirashin seal on every single person who looked at his family askance, and execute them all in one poetic swoop - isn’t Mikoto’s birthday coming up? She’s absolutely the type who would appreciate the gesture. Maybe mount the head on spikes in front of the Uchiha compound. He’s sure Kushina knows a preservation seal to keep the smell and the bugs away. It sounds like something she’d be interested in, the bloodthirsty maniac.

 

But, since nothing in life is so simple, he is aware he better take the diplomatic approach. If it were just Mikoto and Fugaku who he can just throw over his shoulder and spirit away if necessary, he might not have bothered. But little Itachi needs the village (for now-for now-for now). So he will give him the village. Simple.

 

He turns to Mikoto who is barely conscious, sprawled over Kushina’s lap. His wife is frozen rocking the little sleeping infant mechanically, face blank in the most threatening of ways.

“Kushina”, he says quietly but decisively. Her head snaps to him, her interest roused by his firm, commanding tone. He didn’t often demand anything of her, more than happy for her to have the reins. But if he was only half-heartedly deciding not to burn down the village, he doesn’t even know what she’d hell-fury she’s got going on under all that hair.

He can’t read her at all, which is worrying but is maybe for the best. Her anguish would only make him angrier.

“We should take them to the Den They’re not safe here. “

A crack in her facade appears, and her eyes flash red. Hands rocking little Itachi are perfectly steady, but he can feel the rumble of Kyūbi’s chakra. It's subtle, and he can only feel it because he’s looking for it, but that is the absolute last thing they need right now.

 

He raises his voice sharply. “Keep it together. You have a sick infant in your hands and an unconscious Uchiha in your lap. Now is not the time.”

 

A sneer twists her features, but she nods sharply. Eyes closed, she starts going through breathing exercises, while Minato maneuvers Fugaku to a more comfortable position.

He gathers his chakra and makes a few dozen shadow clones, who blur away to do their appointed tasks. They pouf out of existence one by one as their tasks are complete, and the familiar mental strain of foreign-yet-not memory influx helps ground him further. He just receives the Uchiha family’s sealed belongings when Kushina finally opens her eyes.

“You owe me a spar later, pretty boy,” she growls, her smile the furthest thing from kind. He knows this side of her, although she tries to keep it from him as much as possible. He loves his wife whole, though, and this is as much a part of her as any other. He bares his teeth in a smile that matches hers. “Gladly.”

 

They move in tandem, arranging their precious Uchiha cargo, so that Minato is touching all of them, as they flash away to the safety of Uzumaki-Namikaze compound.

 

 

 

 


	5. the den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peak in the Uzumaki-Namikaze Den.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fillery AF, but it practically wrote itself. I had very little to do with it.

 

In a flash of golden light, the little, bedraggled group appears in the main room of a homey, three-story townhouse. The room wears it’s chaos as a badge of honor - as expected from two seal obsessed genius orphans. It's painfully obvious to anyone who cares to look that neither of the two had a very comfortable childhood - signs of overcompensation are abundant. Every piece of furniture is chosen to be as soft and comforting as possible. Pillows are strewn everywhere, and there is little sign of organization. The only discernible rooms are the kitchen and the bathroom, which are spotless and cared for in the way that hints to the occupants not being used to having such luxuries. The other rooms seem to have more or less the same function - a sleeping-eating-fucking-researching type of function, to be exact. It appears as though the occupants aren’t strictly speaking aware that houses typically assign functions to specific rooms, and furnish them accordingly.

Minato looks around their Den, arms still filled with Uchiha, and for a long moment isn’t sure how to proceed. He cuts his eyes to Kushina who is staring at Itachi in her arms, the eldritch rage in her eyes now replaced with steely determination. “Should we clear them a room to have as their own?” He asks uncertainly. No matter his popularity, he is painfully ignorant of social norms. He bungles through life with a bright smile and confidence born of ignorance, so his lack of social grace is thought of as charming and unrestrained. He always found it amusing that, between the two of them, he is thought of as more polite. Kushina is at least aware of the rules she is flaunting, he thinks, a wry smile twisting his lips.  
Flashing violet eyes snap to his. “We will ask when they are awake and coherent. I am not letting anyone out of my sight.”  
Minato nods, satisfied. The animal rage is much quieter now that his family is safe in the Den, where the walls are quite literally covered in seals. With a flex of his chakra, he activates them to maximum level. The ward scheme hums as barrier after barrier snap into existence. The couple painstakingly stored their chakra in the very foundation of this compound for years, just for situations like this. They have been lucky enough so far, never having to turn the protections to this level, and they only have enough stored chakra for a couple of weeks before they need to recharge it, but until then, neither Gods or Devils can get to them in here.

His friends are dead weight in his arms, and worry spikes. Carefully, he reshuffles them so that an arm is free, and forms an approximate one-handed tiger seal. He hadn’t practiced one-handed hand-seals much, so it takes him a couple of tries before a couple of Kage-Bunshin appear. Without a sound, they start bustling about, throwing together a nest of pillows and blankets, and clearing out piles of scrolls and various seal paraphernalia. One clone goes to file paperwork for an extension of their leave. Minato, and by extension Kushina, were already on a month-long mandatory leave of absence after the recent battle-turned-massacre, so it should be a simple affair to extend it for a couple of weeks. A final couple of clones more flash away to gather food and other necessary supplies.

Knowing Kushina isn’t likely to let go of the precious little bundle of adorable that is Itachi, he slowly starts towards the cushions, taking care not to jostle the exhausted couple too much. He worries about both of them, of course, but Fugaku is a more pressing worry. He is in a bad way, Minato observes grimly, raking his eyes over the tight features, the skin closer to waxy than porcelain-pale. The silky hair is matted over with sweat, stuck to his face in clumps.  
He arranges the couple in the Nest as delicately as he is able. The Uchiha couple look much more comfortable buried to their necks in blankets and pillows in bright colors, he notes, pleased. They’re still fully dressed, which is not ideal, but he doesn’t dare change that. He wants to avoid another round of red-faced stuttering and awkward rambling speeches of ‘really, they’re flattered, but they just don’t see them that way’. Really, he thinks wryly, his friends overcomplicate things so readily. It’s all rather simple in his mind. He loves his friends, and he is aware of their beauty like approximately every other person living or dead is, and the whole notion of romantic vs platonic love being two separate things just seems patently ridiculous to him. Kushina agrees with him, he knows but is also endlessly amused by the numerous misunderstandings Minato manages to land himself in.  
Well, undressing aside, he won’t let their prudishness stop him from making his People as comfortable as he can. Its work of a moment to flash to the bathroom and grab a moist towel, with which to wipe away the sweat from his friends' faces and the simple action appears to remove some of the sickly pallor. He ever-so-lightly removes their shoes and decides there is nothing more he could do for now. Not able to help himself, he checks they’re properly tucked in for the up tenth time, and stands up with a sigh. This day has been an emotional clusterfuck, and he has only been out of the house for maybe an hour.  
He turns around and sees Kushina's amused smile. He will be mocked mercilessly for his latest foray into mother-henning, but he doesn’t care the slightest bit. Taking care of his people has always been the very foundation of his character, and he can be quite shameless when he wants to be.

Focusing on the task at hand, he goes about unsealing the belonging of the new occupants of the den. Most of the things he brought were baby-supplies, as those are the only things they can’t easily replace, and they take up almost half of the room. The already comfortable atmosphere gets a whole new level of domestic bliss and Minato is filled with awe. He didn’t realize how much the idea of little-itty-bitty-baby-humans in the Den appealed to him until now, but now he certainly can’t un-know it. He catches Kushina looking over the room with awe and knows he won’t have to work too hard to convince they could use a couple of their own little monsters after this mess is sorted.

He flashes a smile at his beautiful wife, and bounds to her with rather more energy than he feels. Reaching her, he spends a long moment looking at the sleeping infant, and tentatively reaches out to stroke an all too thin cheek. He has been around plenty of babies, of course, but this one is his, which makes it different. Well, somewhat his, he amends. Partially. Tangentially his.  
The baby stirs in its sleep, and he melts. He gauges his chances of extracting Itachi from his dragon of a godmother and judges them non-existent.  
“We need medical books, he muses out loud. And we need to plan.”  
Kushina scoffs at him. “You go plot, pretty-boy. I'll go through Shishou’s library. The standard issue stuff is useless or the Uchiha would’ve known it.”  
“That makes sense”, he nods. “Take some baby food with you, and take care to feed him as much as he can possibly eat. Possibly more. Ill come and get you two when Mikoto and Fugaku wake up.”

He kisses her, a light brush of the lips, already deep in thought. He has a lot of goodwill stored up, and he needs to plan how best to marshal his resources. He doesn’t even notice his wife’s fond smile, as she sweeps from the room.


	6. care and feeding of exhausted uchiha's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is food and fussy friends.

Fugaku wakes up like a shinobi - snapping to full awareness from one moment to another. His surroundings are unfamiliar, so he carefully does not tense, keeping his breathing slow. A large amount of chakra is spread over him and it feels like - wards? Outrageously overpowered wards, rather. Its work of a moment to identify the two Chakra signatures that make up the Ward scheme: Minato and Kushina. The two are present nearby, less than 10m away. They’re standing next to another two signatures who appear to be - Itachi and Mikoto. The force of his relief overwhelms him for a moment, and he stops emulating sleep. The previously faint buzzing in his ears heightens and its all he can do to breathe deeply, and ride the wave of anxiety away.

 

A couple of long moments later he forces his eyes open and his panic starts being replaced with fierce joy. Mikoto is feeding Itachi, looking resplendent as she lounges in a nest of purple and red pillows. Minato and Kushina are hovering as close to them as they can physically manage, hands full with nonsensical baby-care supplies. His friends are idiots, he thinks, heart brimming with fondness. Wonderful, amazing idiots.

He tries to stand up quietly, so as not to disturb them, but his muscles decide to cramp, and he falls back down, air escaping clenched teeth with a hiss.

Three pairs of eyes snap to him, and the smile on Mikoto’s face is a sight to behold. He loses a couple of seconds staring at her, and the feeling of large, warm hands on his shoulders snaps his attention back to his immediate surroundings. He flinches by pure instinct and regrets it immediately as Minato’s worried face fills with sorrow. Fuck. He closes his eyes and inhales firmly, gathering his wits. Kami-damn it, he’s acting like a halfwit.

A tentative hand falls on his shoulder, the touch feather-light, and when he doesn’t shrug it off, settles more firmly. A warm cup is pressed softly into his hands, and a quick whiff tells him its coffee. Fuck, he has never been more grateful for Minato’s mother-hen tendencies.

He opens his eyes and smiles slightly at his fussing friend. Minato has dumped his mostly useless baby supplies next to Mikoto and is wearing an apron of all things. He is kneeling next to Fugaku’s nest of pillows (and how does one room have more than one nest of pillows, for Sage’s sake?) and has somehow managed to acquire a myriad dishes overflowing with food in the scant seconds since Fugaku woke up.

The dishes are swallowing up all available floor space next to Minatoand to his rough approximation contain enough food to feed the four of them for at least two, three days. The selection is also amusingly eclectic - Fugaku suspects Minato was one to choose it. It spoke of a person with no true knowledge of how meals are structured, but has immaculate knowledge of dietary requirements of humans, as well as an overabundance of good will. The results are popular meals from the entire Sage damned Elemental Nations, chosen for maximal nutritional value cross-checked with relative popularity. The poor idiot probably made an equation. Fugaku would be more surprised if situations like this didn’t occur every time Mikoto or him asked Minato to get them something. If he asked for something to read, he’d get a selection of top twenty books for his age bracket and societal standing. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so damn touching.

⁃

He glances at Minato who’s looking at him expectantly, having released his shoulder so as to hand him chopsticks. Behind him, Kushina and Mikoto are masterfully hiding their amusement, but their eyes are dancing.

He takes a long, bracing sip of coffee, relishing the burn and opens his mouth to say - something? Nothing comes to mind, and he closes them again with a snap. He is so far out into the twilight zone, he has no frame of reference left. What the fuck does one say in situations like these? Izanami fucking _wept_ , his _life_. With another long sip, his coffee is finished, and this time he is more successful.

“Good morning. This is a nice sight to wake up to, no matter the.. unorthodox circumstances that lead to this. “

Minato tosses his head impatiently, looking for all the world like a scolding grandmother.

“Yes yes, very good to see you, you’re looking much better now you’ve gotten some proper sleep. There, niceties done, now eat, Fugaku, for Kami’s sake. I will fill you in.”

Fugaku casts a wary eye over the mountain of food.

“Thank you Minato, but surely-”

“It’s not all for you,” cuts in an amused Kushina. Minato looks at her, outraged. She holds her hands up and laughs. “Not all for you _right now_. Eat as much as you can, then eat some more, and finish the rest later. We’ll just seal it up when you’re done, so it remains fresh.”

Minato huffs, and all but puts his hands on his hips, radiating disapproval. “Well, do you have any more pressing questions. Should I explain where I got the food? “

Fugaku is shocked into a meek shake of the head. He has encountered Minato the mother hen before, but apparently the more worried he is, the more he fusses. Under Minato’s gimlet gaze, he chooses a dish at random and places it pointedly on his lap, taking the chopsticks from the blond.

Minato sniffs but mercifully continues to speak.

“We’re in the Den, _obviously_ , even though I think you’ve never been. We’re as safe here as is humanly possible, and probably beyond that. The wards are set on maximum, and we’ve been storing chakra in the seal matrices for more than five years. The combined might of every hidden village can’t touch us in here for the next couple of weeks until we have to recharge them. One bit of very good news is that Itachi seems to be doing better here than in the compound, specifically because he seems to be absorbing trace amounts of chakra from the atmosphere. Mikoto says he is awake about 20-30% more than usual. This is amazing news on many fronts, but we won’t get into them now.

“Mikoto filled us in some, and oh boy are we pissed things got this far without us knowing. Now, Fugaku, listen to me, because this is important. I, and I am pretty sure I speak for Kushina as well, absolutely will not play the blame game with you. If you start going on how it’s your fault, we will insist it’s our fault, and so on and so forth. It’s the village’s fault, it’s the elder’s fault, it’s goddamn Senju Tobirama’s fault before it is yours, do you understand me? Keep eating, it’s a rhetorical question.

“So. Not your fault.

“This is a multi-tier problem, and we need to approach it wisely. We can’t afford any missteps and setbacks.

“First we need to get you two up and healthy. You both ran yourself ragged, but Fugaku you’re not out of the woods yet. You are sporting an impressive case of chakra exhaustion, on top of general strain and lack of food. You quite literally almost worked yourself to death.

“Restricted, very restricted chakra use for you in the next couple of days.

“I will force feed you if I have to, but so help me, you will eat your weight in meat. Your body started digesting the muscles after the whole chakra pill debacle. You need all the goddamn protein I can stuff into your pretty face.

“Mikoto you’re not off the hook either. I see those bags under your eyes, and that you don’t sleep longer than an hour at a time.

For both of you, the most important things are food and sleep. I extended my and Kushina’s leave for another four weeks, so we’re free for the next two months in total. Money is not a problem because A. You’re Uchiha and are thus filthy rich. B. I just got paid a mind-boggling amount of money for the whole slaughter business. Not to mention Uzumaki-hime here can probably buy Konoha whole, if she wanted to.

“So you, my friends, have at your beck and call two people with the biggest Chakra receivers in the village, who are willing and able to summon a hundred thousand live in nannies to wait on the Little Prince. You can afford to rest, as much as you possibly can. 

“The politics of this whole thing are disgusting, but there is a small silver lining - Kushina and I at this time have quite a lot of social clout, and we are not easily silenced.

Fugaku, dazed, tries to process this onslaught of information. To buy himself some time, he reaches for another rib from his bowl, and to his surprise finds the meal finished. He stares at the neatly stacked bones, stripped carefully of all meat. It certainly _looks_ like he ate it, but for the life of him, he doesn’t know how or when.

Minato holds up another steaming bowl of what appears to be a Suna dish. It’s some sort of meat, lamb he assumes, on a bed of tomatoes and rice. The characteristic smell of chili and cumin invades his senses, and to his surprise, he finds his mouth watering. Uchiha are quite fire-mad and spicy food ties in neatly with that. Not to mention - tomatoes! He was certain only Mikoto was aware of his weakness towards the biter fruit, but apparently, he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

He casts a bewildered look at his wife who finished feeding his now dozing son and traded him for a tea tray that by all accounts should have been straining under the weight. The truly improbable mountain of traditional desserts from Uzu is towering over the delicate china set that he was surprised survived so long in the newly-dubbed Den. He had faint suspicions that the swirly decorations doubled as seals, as Minato and Kushina seemed to not even realize they use fuujinjutsu to truly excessive amounts.

The redheaded Uzumaki has claimed a spot next to Mikoto, not so much lounging, as burrowing into their Pillow-Nest. The force of Kushina’s personality tended to give her otherwise soft, rounded features an air of striking, savage beauty. Now she gazes at the sleeping infant in her arms, a besotted, kind smile pulling at her lips,and he is shocked how little of the fierce warrior is visible. To his eyes, she is the very epitome of maternal beauty.

Mikoto catches his eye and smiles at him with the awestruck air of the helplessly resigned. She won’t shrug, but the sentiment is conveyed in the curve of her smile and the hint of a dimple. Movements ever graceful, she dips a delicate looking pastry filled with cream into her tea and proceeds to daintily devour the whole thing in 0.3 seconds flat.

A pointed nudge interrupts him from admiring Mikoto, and he sighs fondly as he takes a bite from his own meal. He swallows and looks at Minato, not even attempting to stop the affectionate smile from spreading on his face.

“Alright, you absolute menace. I am following your instructions to the letter, I promise.”

Minato is taken aback, not used to such bluntness from the typically reserved Uchiha. He nods, somewhat off balance, not sure if this new development is something to be alarmed about.

Fugaku huffs, but the tired smile is still there if a bit diminished. “Don’t look so alarmed Minato. I simply don’t have any energy for masks and politeness. It has been a trying..” He pauses, trying to come up with an appropriate time period - day, week, month, year - “… life. It has been a trying life.”

He grins weakly to show he meant it as a joke, but the words get stuck in his throat and come out a tired croak. Kami he feels old, and he’s not even 30.

Minato’s answering smile is a sharp, bitter thing. “That’s one way of putting it” he murmurs looking nothing like Konoha’s poster boy. A large part of Fugaku is selfishly proud his friend is dropping his cheerful act, basking in the trust offered. He always liked Minato more like this, not working to sheathe his claws, free with his sharp edges and his kind smiles. Those moments are few and far in-between, and he is honest enough that is because Fugaku himself finds it hard to let go of the safety politeness holds. 

“I see I’m not the only one too tired for masks. Well, at least one good thing came out of this whole mess. Now lets hope I live long enough to enjoy it. “

He starts, shocked at his own honesty. Honesty is one thing, but the last thing he wants is to burden Minato with more worries. Mortified, Fugaku makes an honest attempt at drowning himself in his bowl. Sweet Amaterasu, emotional equilibrium seems to be beyond him in the foreseeable future.

Minato, and he is really Fugaku’s favorite person right now, takes pity on him and instead throws himself in the nest, laying on his back with several pillows propping him up. He’s not looking at Fugaku, instead, he’s looking at Mikoto and Kushina, and he is relieved not to be the center of attention.

Mikoto decides her husband deserves some time to gather himself and speaks up.

“Minato, darling. I won’t thank you both, because I would never stop. We will figure out a way to convey our thanks in an appropriately outrageous manner at a later time.

For now, I will fill you in further. I have explained about Itachi’s condition briefly, but I will write a detailed report later tonight and give it to you. There are roughly two separate problems. The more important one obviously is one of Itachi’s health. Our baby is dying and the Uchiha medics can’t help him. The main thing preventing us from getting him the help he needs is the political situation.

There are both internal and external pressures. We have mostly dealt with the internal issues last night, by… neutralizing the Elder Council. 

The more dangerous opponent right now is Danzou, and the consequence his manipulations have had on our reputation.

I do not know how aware you are about the Uchiha reputation right now, but very few, if any Clans will lift so much as a finger to help us. More importantly, the Clan in general and Fugaku and I in particular, no longer trust Sarutobi to be in any way accommodating to the Uchiha. I simply cannot trust he will be moved to help the Clan heir in good faith.

We realize that Itachi might be best served if his primary caretakers were not, in fact, Uchiha, but the two of you. You’re well connected and enormously popular, and Sandaime considers you two his own family. He would help you like he would never help us.

Believe us, we thought long and hard about it, and if our deaths would see Itachi safe in your care, we’d already have been on a one way S-rank with smiles on our faces and peace in our hearts.

The beginning of a furious snarl is on Kushina’s lips and Mikoto settles her outraged friend with a soft touch and a loving smile.

Her eyes shine with love and sadness, as she shares a short look with Fugaku, but her tone is still as serene as it ever was.

“But, unfortunately, we don’t know that you will, in fact, get the guardianship or if it would go to the Uchiha, as Itachi is the Heir. That wouldn’t help anything - Itachi would still be an Uchiha with all the weight that entails, and your influence will grow to be even more peripheral than it is now.

“So you see our impasse - we can’t protect him with our lives or our deaths.

Kushina seems to be deathly still, frozen in her rage. The sleeping baby in her arms keeps her from exploding, but her eyes promise fiery retribution.

Minato seems to be in similar straits, his ire evident in the tense line of his body.

He turns sharply to Fugaku, and sends him and inquiring look. Fugaku’s helpless desperation must be obvious because his eyes turn to chips of ice, and his resolve sharpens into a deadly blade.

He inhales sharply and tries his best to keep his voice level. It turns out emotionless, but it’s the best he can do right now.

“There will be no deaths and no foolish martyr escapades.

“Quite apart from everything else, I don’t want to spend the next however many years cleaning up the bloody trail of bodies my wife leaves as she cuts a swathe through the village “Elites” that drove her best friend to suicide.

“Not that I wouldn’t be right there next to her, teaching the world that actions have consequences.

Minato stands and looks at Fugaku seriously.

“Alright. You two stay here, rest and replenish your energy. Itachi needs you at your best. Take the day for yourselves, eat everything you possibly can. Kushina and I are going to go and gather resources.

“We will have a preliminary meeting with our allies tomorrow, but it’s impossible to have it here. The only people in the world who can enter the Wards are the one’s present. Can we use the Uchiha meeting room?

Fugaku nods tiredly, trying not to look as defeated as he feels. “Meeting room One should be appropriate. I will inform Yasuhito.

Minato nods sharply.

“Tomorrow, at the Uchiha compound, Meeting room One, at noon. We will see you then.”

Kushina stands, and walks over to Fugaku, hands him Itachi. She squeezes his shoulder briefly and looks at him with fierce determination. “You’re not alone. We will get this done. Even if we have to elope to godforsaken _Kumo_ , Itachi will be _fine_. You will see. “

One last fleeting touch and the two shunshin away, leaving a gust of wind in their wake.


	7. well fuc-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Minato is a troll, Kushina is a hyena, and Fugaku is no longer afraid.

Fugaku wakes up an hour after dawn, curled in a tight embrace with Mikoto. Not even two seconds awake, and dread is pooling in his belly. He stares at the warm, wooden ceiling of the Den, and is all but shaking with excess adrenaline. Today is a pivotal moment, and he fights the urge to take his wife and son and run and run, far enough even the Shinigami can’t find them.

 

He closes his eyes briefly, forcing himself into a semi-meditative state. He is of no use to anyone like this, apart from perhaps as a frontline fighter. He would very much prefer a situation where he can light his problems on fire and dance in the ashes.

 

Mikoto woke up as soon as he so much as twitched, and the two of them go about their morning in a tense silence. While their rituals before a battle may be different, after all these years they slot together like gears in a well-oiled machine. Tense they may be, but the camaraderie is there - they are completely in sync, more so than they had been in the previous few years. That, if nothing else, is a much needed balm.

 

After a short deliberation, they decide to bring Itachi to the meeting. It’s not an easy decision, but they don’t have the chakra to make a Shadow Clone, and Minato and Kushina hadn’t returned to the Den since the previous day. The fear of leaving him alone is crippling to the worried parents, and they can’t bear to be parted from him, wards or no wards.

 

They need to stop by their house to get ready, and luckily they still have a few hours before noon. Mikoto is unarmed and dressed in rags, and that is just plain unacceptable. If they are to bring their son within killing distance of semi-hostile shinobi, then she will have her blades. And perhaps her most beautiful silk kimono. _Because she can._

 

They move through the village cloaked in Mikoto’s strongest illusion. Which isn’t all that strong at all, admittedly, but Fugaku is a Genjutsu master, and she never had much talent in the finicky art. It is of little importance, truly. It’s a shinobi village, and the illusion combined with their familiar chakra signatures signals clearly hat they are not to be disturbed at this time.

 

When they reach the Uchiha compound, they beeline straight home to get ready. On their way Fugaku snags one of the many children running about, and sends him with a message to Yasuhiko, informing him of the upcoming meeting. Fugaku is still the Clan Head, so he doesn’t technically have to inform him, but the poor man has had to deal with Tamako the Dragon-lady, so he deserves some goddamn courtesy and respect.

 

By the time noon is close, they have gone through several cycles of blind panic followed by furious compartmentalization, and when the harried-looking Genin informs them that their guests have arrived, they have zero attention to spare for the bewildered child. The couple is at their most deadly, balancing on the precarious edge of terrified and livid.

They decided there was little to be gained by feigning harmlessness, so Mikoto twists her hair up in a complicated looking topknot, and opts out of any jewelry or makeup. Instead of her usual Kimono, she wears a skintight ANBU-like outfit in dark grey, with a deceptively delicate looking black vest hanging low over her hips, with matching arm- and shin-guards . She is didn’t bother with weapons, apart from the two swords crossed across her back, but Fugaku knows that body-armor set.

 

He commissioned it himself from Uzumaki Mito-sama, as a gift for Mikoto’s Jōnin promotion. The thing is a work of a certifiable mad genius, and as such is beyond the ken of the likes of him. Suffice it to say, it’s comprised of hundreds of seals stitched over multiple layers of thin cloth, loosely enveloped by soft leather. He’s pretty confident that, between Mikoto and him, they discovered the function of about a third of the seals the armor contained, and about a half of those in the arm guards. In her typical fashion, Mito-sama couldn't be bothered with actually explaining which seals she used, and what they did, but instead presented the finished result to Fugaku, all but cackling madly. Fugaku considers himself to be a brave but sensible man, and as such promptly bowed and _ran the fuck away_. The only reason the mad Uzumaki even accepted his commission is that Kushina begged.

 

Fugaku’s outfit is very similar to hers, except he only wears standard Jōnin-issue arm and shin-guards and mesh armor. He is a long distance, Genjutsu type, and while he is reasonably proficient with his Kōdachi, he can't afford to limit his maneuverability by wearing cumbersome armor.

 

Meeting Room One is, in fact, a small building at the edge of the non-residential area of the Uchiha Compound. It’s where the Clan holds meetings with foreign dignitaries so their privacy will be guaranteed. The walls all have one-way silencing seals carved in the window frames, so the occupants can hear and look from the inside, but not the other way around. A further measure of protection is afforded by the barrier seals that can only be temporarily disabled by a full-bloodied Uchiha. The little building doubles as a panic room and would be the first place their children are trained to hide in, if in danger.

 

Minato and Kushina wait for them at the door, and Kushina waves exaggeratedly when she spots them. When they reach them, they’re smothered by overly enthusiastic hugs, somehow managing to avoid all the weapons the Uchiha have squirreled about their persons. They look their normal, cheerful self, except for the tense lines at the edges of Kushina’s eyes, and the slightly cruel twist to Minato’s lips. Nevertheless, the blond beams at Fugaku while Kushina fusses over little Itachi with almost flawlessly ditzy movements. Fugaku is impressed. He’d be fooled if he didn’t know them quite as well as he did. As things stood, their little show eases some of the roaring panic in the back of his mind. They wouldn’t bother with this routine if things were truly hopeless.

 

He allows the charade to continue for a couple of minutes but puts his foot down when the crazy duo starts fawning over the sealwork in their armor. He rises a judgmental eyebrow, and clears his throat with a pointed glance toward the meeting room where he _knows_ people are watching their every move. A wicked gleam lights Minato’s eyes, and the mad blonde suddenly drops to his knees, ostensibly to look at Fugaku’s shin guards.

 

He chokes on his tongue and tries to backpedal, but Minato’s hands are like iron clasps around his shin, and he overbalances, arms pinwheeling, and mind suddenly empty of all thought. He would have fallen over if not for Kushina’s steadying hands. The Uzumaki princess appears to be about to pass out from laughter, and Mikoto looks like she’s too shocked to do anything but stare wide-eyed at the innocent looking blonde kneeling in front of her husband, all but stroking his calf.

 

Fugaku, on his end, splutters and flails, managing not to shriek by frankly inhumane effort. “Minato, so help me,” he hisses, the effect somewhat undermined by the crimson blush spreading on his neck. The idiot just looks up at him, face inches from his crotch, with virtue all but dripping out of his pores. He blinks using the long eyelashes to their maximum, devastating effect. “I’m sorry Fugaku but you know I can’t help myself.” Fugaku makes a noise reminiscent of a boiling tea kettle and Kushina doubles over in laughter, red-faced, tears streaming down her face.

 

He is saved from further embarrassment by the merciful angel of kindness, Mikoto. “Minato, darling, do we need to have a talk?” Her voice is perfectly pleasant, and smile is perfectly polite, but the blonde gulps, and lowers Fugaku’s foot back on the ground, moving away slowly as if backing away from a dangerous predator. The two stare at each other in silent communication, while Fugaku tries and fails to will away his goddamn blush. A whistling wheeze from Kushina interrupts the stare-down and the two break their eye contact in favor of the gasping redhead. She makes a valiant attempt at calming herself, but one look at the still crouching Minato, who appears ready to jump away at the slightest hostile movement sends her into further paroxysms of laughter. “Calm down you hyena,” he snaps, “before the Clan comes to investigate, and Mikoto has to explain to Tamako why their Clan Head expired from acute embarrassment.”

 

With a sound like a dying whale, the redhead closes her mouth with a click, throwing an arm over her eyes, making odd, strangled sounds of aborted guffaws. Fugaku despairs for his sanity, backs up a few steps and clenches his eyes shut. Well, he’s definitely not afraid anymore. He’s pretty sure that was the goal of this entire little scene - but. _He can’t be sure._ One can never be sure with Minato, the crazy bastard, he thinks grimly. Grinding a palm over his eyes hard enough stars explode in his vision, he counts backward from thirty,

 

When he opens them again, the Namikaze cretin is standing next to Mikoto, looking for all the world like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Mikoto is equally serene, except for the dusting of a blush high on her cheekbones. Kushina is attempting to mimic being a sane grown-up, which is really the most anyone can expect from her. He’s the holdup, it seems. _Kami_. Itachi is still sleeping, bless him. He straightens his hunched posture and wipes his expression of hopefully all expression. There's not much he can do about the fucking blush, but it can’t be helped so he pretends it's not happening. Ignorance is his friend, and he’s nothing if not motivated. Izanami _fucking wept_.

 

He walks up to them resolutely not blushing in any way and snakes a hand around Mikoto’s waist. He is a brave, proud Jōnin of Konoha, but is not a blithering idiot, and is thus absolutely willing to hide behind his wife in the case of pretty blonds and their cackling witch-partners. She leans into him slightly and it’s already easier to breathe. Clearly, the only way forward is to never ever let go of Mikoto ever.

 

“Let’s not keep your - our - guests waiting, Minato dear,“ muses the Uchiha matriarch softly.

 

Minato beams, both rows of pearly whites on full display. “Right! Let’s go, then. It’s not good for Ita-chan to stay out in this sun.” The Uchiha couple heroically don’t rise to the bait, and nod affably, as if this was a perfectly reasonable thing to say. Kushina almost successfully bites down a snort, and it comes out as a strangled hedgehog sneeze. Fugaku closes his eyes for half a moment, biting his cheek. Must. Not. Laugh. He pastes his blandest smile on his face and decidedly doesn’t look at the redhead. A muscle spasms in Mikoto’s jaw, and he throws her a faintly despairing look. If she starts laughing, that’s it. If Mikoto starts with her roaring walrus-laugh he is _fucked._

 

His look doesn't register because her features locked in a stony mask of concentration, and he breathes a faint sigh of relief. Saved.

 

He’s so focused on not laughing he forgets for a couple of seconds where he is, so when he raises his eyes from the ground, his brain short circuits, refusing to compute what appears to be a room full of flabbergasted Clan Heads and the Kami forsaken Snake Sannin lurking in the corner with a distinctly amused smirk.

 

“Well, fuck,” he deadpans, like a _goddamn moron._


	8. by grace of amaterasu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orochimaru is interested, and Fugaku needs a fucking moment.

For a long moment, Fugaku considers the logistics of lighting himself on fire then and there and saving himself the _goddamn trauma_. His poor abused heart can’t take this bullshit.

He casts a nonplussed gaze over the assembled Jōnin and grows even more alarmed as he registers who exactly is visiting his home. The Hyuuga twins, Maito Dai, InoShikaCho formation - that makes six. Aburame Shibi and Morino Rina, that’s eight. Eight Clan Heads plus one Sannin, who still has that infernal smirk on his face.

It’s a twelve-person table, and there are eight people sitting already, plus one lurking. With the four of them, the room is full. How fucking convenient, he thinks hysterically.

 

His head spins slightly, and he wishes, not for the first time, to strengthen his suddenly wobbly limbs with Chakra. Alas, the risk of Minato’s retribution is too big, especially since he decided _flirting_ was amusing. He stumbles to the nearest available seat, plopping himself down beside the impressively blank-faced Hyuuga Hiashi. The Hyuuga inclines his head regally, which is a far cry from the icy disdain he remembers last time he encountered the man. This prompts a quick series of impersonal greetings from the assembled shinobi. Fugaku does his best to reply to each of them with different variations of the same vague phrases. Finished, he looks helplessly towards his wife and winces.

Mikoto is standing at the entrance, clutching Itachi to her protectively, poised as if to run. He cuts his eyes urgently towards Minato and Kushina behind her, who don’t waste any time and move to stand on Mikoto’s either side, bracketing her. The show of support calms her slightly, and she unclenches slowly, face still deathly pale. He starts to rise but is preempted by Hiashi who vacates his seat, in a clear offering to Mikoto. She doesn't move, looking between Fugaku and Hiashi, clearly torn. Without a word, Hizashi and Maito Dai rise, leaving the whole side of the table free. Comforted by this kindness, Mikoto unclenches further and when she sits down on Fugaku’s right, she appears almost calm. Minato and Kushina sit down next to them - Kushina next to Mikoto, and Minato next to Fugaku.

 

The silence in the room is oppressive. Fugaku knows he should say something, knows its impolite to show how surprised as he is about their presence in his home. He feels their sharp eyes cataloging his obvious signs of exhaustion, and is aware they’re puzzled about their atypical behavior. He doesn't blame them - he feels like a completely different person - the old him burned out by the grief and anger, the person who he is now re-forged by Mikoto’s love and his friends’ support. Same is true for Mikoto, even if her changes are less obvious than his are. She is slowly but surely letting go of the Dutiful Housewife charade - it shows in how she’s coiled as a spring beneath the thin veneer of politeness. If anyone makes so much as a single threatening move, she will jump away to safety. A mother dragon protecting her young.

 

He racks his brains, looking for something to say. A few long seconds tick by and he decides blunt honesty carried him so far, he might as well stick with it. He stands and resists the urge to shuffle his feet. He might be half-mad but he’s not a goddamn child.

 

“Let me begin by thanking you for coming - you have our heartfelt gratitude. I also need to apologize for the… awkwardness so far and doubtlessly in the future. While I am nominally in charge of this meeting, Minato has taken it upon himself to organize it. I trust he informed you broadly as to our circumstances, and that we are all more or less on the same page. There is one personal worry, which I would like to clear up before we proceed. You will have to excuse my bluntness, but I have had a uniquely harrowing couple of months, and have little energy for niceties. Therefore, I have to ask: are you aware we - Mikoto and I - are here as Jōnin of Konoha, not the Clan Head and his matriarch. We can not offer you the Clan resources as recompense for your time or assistance. The only thing we have available are personal services, and whatever personal belongings we have, which we would offer freely - whatever little they are worth. I am not sure what Minato and Kushina promised, but that’s the situation, and I am wary of starting a meeting of such importance under false pretenses. “

 

His audience remains quiet, watching him sharply with unchanging expressions, and other than a quiet murmur of ‘Troublesome’ from the InoShikaCho front, nobody volunteers to speak. Minato watches the crowd with an affable smile on his face belied by the ice in his eyes. Kushina is tickling Itachi, pretending not to notice the tense atmosphere. However careless they may act, the lines in the sand are clear. The Uzumaki-Namikaze couple clearly cast their lot with the Uchiha, even to the point of excluding everyone else.

 

The last person in the world Fugaku would expect to speak unfolds from the wall with sinuous grace, bowing slightly to the Uchiha couple. The Sanin throws a lightning-quick glance at Minato’s calculating blue eyes with something akin to - approval? Interest? Whatever it is, its gone immediately, and the unnerving golden eyes fix on Fugaku.

 

“While I in no way speak for the room, my services for this venture were secured by Uzumaki and Namikaze. I require nothing further from the Uchiha in general or the two of you in particular. Furthermore, children dying as a direct result of their own genius doesn’t sit well with me. You could say I'm somewhat - personally invested. Generous incentive aside.

 

Orochimaru speaks in his sibilant, soft-spoken manner, but each word is heard perfectly in the absolute silence of the room. Golden eyes take in the ragged air of Uchiha couple, but surprisingly don’t show any of the commonplace arrogance and disregard. The thing is, Fugaku believes him.

 

Orochimaru was never one to bother with politeness for politeness’ sake, and was strangely uninterested in political games, no matter what his reputation might suggest. As unsettling as the snake summoner could be, arrogant and dismissive and plan inhuman at times, he was also shockingly honest, and his fanatical love for science and the scientific method guaranteed he didn’t put much stock in rumors. No, if the snake summoner had a problem with the Clan, it would only ever be with specific people and would be dealt with promptly and efficiently.

 

To Fugaku’s longstanding dismay, there was a more or less consistent number of newly minted Uchiha Jōnin that thought to challenge the Snake Sanin for some reason or other. They would be very pointedly not maimed but strongly discouraged from trying again by liberal application of unpleasant but mostly harmless venom, and snake bites in humiliating places. It didn’t help that the type of shinobi that would challenge the snake summoner was the type to have no chance of winning against him - the hotheaded, arrogant variety of bully that invariably cropped up in every generation. A little humiliation went a long way for most of those idiots, teaching them they are so far from the biggest fish they might as well be algae.

 

So, the snake Sannin probably didn’t have any personal animus towards the clan and was a coldblooded, practical creature to his very core. If offered a strong enough incentive, Orochimaru would be an invaluable ally. The only thing was, most people didn’t have anything that would interest him. He wasn’t interested in money, or political power. He had no interest in nobility or improving his social standing. The only currency he valued was knowledge, which the Clans guarded too closely to barter with, and the civilians didn’t have access to anything he didn’t already know.

 

All of this is to say that Fugaku was incredibly worried and curious about what Minato and Kushina could possibly have offered him. He is so absorbed in his thoughts he doesn't even notice he is staring at the Snake Sanin with his eyes wide, not saying a word.

 

Mikoto notices her flabbergasted husband and jumps in. Bowing her head significantly lower than was appropriate for the matriarch of the Uchiha clan, she speaks with raw honesty obvious in her voice.

“Any assistance you could provide to Itachi would be beyond valuable. You have mentioned Kushina and Minato settled the debt, but surely there is something we could offer to show our gratitude that you would accept?”

A little taken aback at the uncharacteristic expressiveness, and uncomfortable with the emotions in play, Orochimaru nonetheless answers politely. 

“I assure you, I am more than well compensated. Current circumstances aside, your son is lucky to have such devoted caretakers.

“Unfortunately I was on my way to a mission when I was.. contacted by Uzumaki, so I have to take my leave. Uzumaki will inform me as to the results of this meeting, and I will contact you tomorrow evening. Would that be acceptable?”

 

Fugaku finds his voice, and clears his throat, trying not to show his unease about being the focus of that unnerving gaze.

His bow is low enough to match Mikoto’s, which was downright alarming for the rest of the room - he didn’t bow half as low for the Hokage.

 

“Thank you Orochimaru-sama. Your help will not be forgotten.”

 

Straightening from the bow, he meets the considering golden eyes firmly. A curious expression passes over the androgynous features. He looks surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Then something in his features firms as if a decision was made.

 

“The timing is truly unfortunate. While I cannot give you details of my mission, I find myself unwilling to leave you without means of contacting me should there be some … unfortunate developments. I cannot consent to a Hirashin marker, even a temporary one, because of the sensitive nature of the mission. However, there might be an alternative.”

 

With smooth, practiced movement he bites one long finger and bends down, producing a small cloud of smoke. He rises, carrying a small white serpent in his hands.

“This is Yuki. Should something occur you think I should be informed of, tell her. She has means of contacting me inconspicuously. I suggest keeping her with you at all times. She is a worthy ally, and she will protect you as she would myself.”

Fugaku doesn’t hesitate to step forward, maintaining a polite distance but with a hand extended in clear invitation.

“Once more, we are grateful for your consideration, even while we hope it is unnecessary. Yuki will be a valued ally. “

He glances at the reptile wrapping herself around his arm and inclines his head. 

“Hello, Yuki-san. I thank you for your help in keeping my family safe. Is there anything we can do to make your stay with us more comfortable?”

The snake rises from his arm slightly to look at her new charge. It nods in a strangely human manner and hisses back. “Greetings, Uchiha-sama. I do not require anything at this time, except I would ask you to keep me close to your person so that I may fulfill my task to Orochimaru-sama's satisfaction. “

Fugaku nods simply, and the snake takes this as permission to wind herself further up his arm, settling around his shoulders and disappearing under the collar. The weight is so small as to be negligible, and the reptile curiously has no discernible scent. Or a chakra signature he notes with not insignificant alarm. How this is possible he does not know, but he has more important things to think about than Orochimaru’s eldritch assassin snakes.

 

Orochimaru watches them, golden eyes unreadable, but doesn't appear to be displeased. He shifts his gaze to Minato and Kushina, and Fugaku only notices the interest in his eyes because he’s looking so closely. “Namikaze, Uzumaki. I will doubtlessly see you soon.” He gets two patently air-headed farewells for his trouble which appears to amuse him further. It seems Fugaku’s resident mad geniuses have garnered the attention of the maddest goddamn genius in the whole of Elemental Nations and beyond. A shiver runs down Fugaku’s spine. This doesn’t bode well for his non-existent sanity.

 

Scanning the room, the androgynous features of the Sanin shift into a familiar, arrogant expression. He offers a shallow nod to the gathered clan heads, barely enough to be polite. They don’t look surprised at his lack of social grace. If anything they appear to be astonished at his previous show of politeness. Which is completely fair, as Fugaku is shocked himself. He must remember to grill Minato and Kushina about what in Sage’s name they promised him to garner this level of interest. Mikoto has risen in the meantime and joined Fugaku at the door. To his surprise, she is still carrying Itachi, instead of leaving him with Kushina as he expected. It seems his wife is making a statement. Well.

 

Orochimaru turns to them and pauses infinitesimally at the sight of the infant. He looks at Mikoto sharply, golden eyes searching for - something? Whatever it is, he doesn’t find it, because sharpness is replaced by confusion that flits quickly across his face before settling into bland politeness. He bows at them both before subtly glancing at the sleeping infant with an inscrutable expression. He nods at them once more, absently and moves to leave.

 

Fugaku he pauses for half a moment, before smirking slightly. This is not a good idea, but. Why the hell not, at this point? He steps closer, and clasps the Sannin’s forearm lightly and holds his gaze. “Fire, steel and blood.” He lets go, and steps back, taking care to maintain eye contact.

Snake summoner arches an elegantly sculpted eyebrow, which was absolutely fair. Fugaku used the traditional Uchiha warriors salute, which was never used outside of the clan. But. The man is helping him, _helping his son_ , so he deserves every bit of respect Fugaku can dredge out of his shriveled soul.

With a sly glint in his eyes, Orochimaru folds his right arm, closed fist resting over his heart as he bows slightly. “By grace of Amaterasu.”

 

Fugaku’s lips twitch upwards, even as annoyance fills him. Of course, the Kami forsaken Sanin knows traditional greetings. Absolutely nobody will believe that Fugaku has nothing to do with Orochimaru somehow being privy to secret Clan knowledge. Forget the Elders, Tamako probably already knows and is going to make her displeasure known. Laughing golden eyes meet his own, and without a further word, Orochimaru spins on his heel and glides out, long inky hair swaying slightly. The dramatic bastard doesn't bother with anything as pedestrian as walking.

 

Fugaku turns and looks at the room full of disconcerted looking clan heads who stopped bothering with keeping their expressions straight. Minato and Kushina look far too pleased by themselves and he can’t deal with this right now. His nerves are shot, and he’s just had an unfailingly polite conversation with Orochimaru of the fucking Sannin. The Apocalypse is clearly nigh, and he is just - done. He plucks Itachi from Mikoto’s hands and bends down to ostensibly peck her cheek.“You take over, darling. I need a fucking _moment_ ,” he murmurs. And pecks her cheek, because why wouldn’t he.

 


	9. hell hath no wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mikoto is her charming self, and the political situation in Konoha is shifting.

Fugaku curls up with Itachi, looking unfairly comfortable slumped in a remarkably uncomfortable chair, and Yuki pokes a head out to scent Itachi. He murmurs to the reptile, too softly to be heard, and she nods in the same unsettlingly human manner, before disappearing in the folds of his collar.

Mikoto is in charge now. She looks at her husband, trying to convey her absolute unwillingness to play nice. He raises an eyebrow, silently saying he wasn’t fool enough to assume otherwise.

She nods infinitesimally and spends a moment gathering herself. Focused, she stands, needing to be on her feet for this conversation. 

She quickly informs her audience of the abridged news - the Uchiha have disbanded the Elder council, by means of a popular vote by the clan. Fugaku is still clan head, but he stepped down temporarily to take care of Itachi.

With that said, she sharpens her focus.

“I would like to make one thing clear right on the onset. If there is to be any progress made here today, sensitive information will have to be shared. If you’re uncomfortable with such information being shared in front of everybody present, speak now so that we can organize individual meetings.

“As for Fugaku and I, we have no compunction with speaking openly. The situation being what it is, out privacy isn’t a priority anymore.

She can practically taste the skepticism in the air. They don’t believe her or think this is some sort of manipulation they think on her part. _More fool them_.

“I will take that as agreement then. And maybe its better to clear the air, as it were.

“With that in mind, I’d like to point out one thing. With all _due_ respect, you aren’t my friends. You’re barely allies at this point. I’m not as nice as my husband. For all that he’s cold looking, he always looked at you with respect and considers you his comrades. _I do not._

 

“Whether it was for your personal gain or not, you stood by, and let our clan - my _family_ \- get maligned. You kept your heads down and watched us be confined to a compound, watched as our children are denied promotions and our shinobi are discriminated against. There is not a single Uchiha instructor in the academy, not a single Jōnin instructor, ANBU, T&I, Hunter division or any other position within the village barring the Military Police. We’re unofficially banned from public training grounds for fear of “stealing Jutsu’s”. The largest clan in Konoha isn’t welcome in the village it helped found. “

 

Shikaku interrupts, voice mild, but with a frown on his face.

“Uchiha-sama, I do not understand your strategy here. It seems like insulting people you’re begging for help might be counterproductive.“

 

Minato and Kushina’s genial mask slips, and violet eyes flash red. Fugaku just smirks tiredly and sits back, content to watch.

Mikoto leans forward, fury in her eyes.

“ _Oh_ , Nara-sama? Did I misunderstand your role here? You’re here from the _goodness of your hearts_? _You_ , Jōnin-commander-san? How many Uchiha did you promote last year? I will tell you if you can’t recall. _Zero_. Every single Uchiha that gained Jōnin rank, received a field promotion. And every single one now works at the Military Police, only mobilized to fight in wars. My clansmen, Jōnin by all rights, can’t even take missions outside of the village, because of their position in the Police force.

“No, _you_ are here, Nara-sama because there is something you want from my family, whether Fugaku and I or Minato and Kushina. And that’s fine. It's a cruel world out there, and I will accept mercenary help if it’s the only kind available.

“Let’s just make matters crystal clear. If I thought _begging_ , as you so nicely put it, would work - for my son’s life, I would’ve begged. But I know you, Jōnin-commander-san, and there’s a reason I didn’t even try. “

Shukaku shrinks back from her, shamefaced, and it’s enough, for now. She is far from finished, but she’s got a job to do, and it won’t get done if she gets sidetracked by infuriating Clan Heads.

She leans back.

“So I imagine I have compromised myself enough for you to feel comfortable with being honest right back.”

 

Maito Dai is the first one to stand up, and he bows low to the Uchiha couple. The man is eccentric, as was normal for him, but the trademark flamboyant grin was notably absent, a grim expression in its place.

“We might not be friends, as you say Uchiha-sama, but I would nevertheless consider you allies. I am sorry I haven’t paid much attention to the unfair treatment of the Uchiha clan. While I am nominally the head of the Maito Clan, we’re a small and insignificant enough clan that we’ve next to no political clout. As I’m sure everybody here is aware, I am a Genin, and thus have little personal sway. All of this is to say, while I do not approve of your treatment, there is little I can do about it. Same is true for my involvement with your son. I am no healer and no scholar. However, Namikaze-sama is wiser than I, so if he can think of a use for me, I will offer my assistance freely.

“In any other situation, I would offer this freely. The times are such, however, that I might have to ask for a favor from you. One you might even sympathize with. A dear friend of mine is being treated abominably in his home, and unfortunately isn’t receiving necessary care by the village or his friends and family. I try but I can only do so much. The situation is severe enough that I fear what he might do if he’s left to his own devices. Namikaze-sama has already agreed to assist me in this matter, and the value of his assistance cannot be overstated. Even if you, Uchiha-sama, can’t help, I will consider myself well compensated for something I should have been doing in the first place. “

Mikoto defrosts somewhat.

“Maito-sama, I am afraid I might have, in my anger, treated you unfairly. I am not blind, or mindless, and am thus perfectly aware that some have had more to do with my clan’s misfortune than others. Yourself, Morino-sama and Aburame-sama hold very little blame, as you have very little say in how the village is run. I apologize for not making that clear before”

 

She pretends not to notice Yamanaka clenching his jaw, and Akimichi drooping slightly. The Hyūga twins seem carved in marble for all expression they’re showing.

 

“Having said that, I can tentatively agree to help your friend. I need more information before I agree to anything more concretely, as you can imagine, but you shouldn't worry too much about that. What I do have to point out is that care of an infant, even a healthy one is a time-consuming affair. Itachi is far from healthy and will be my number priority in every way that matters. Fugaku stepped down as clan head so he can do the same. I'm sure you can see where I’m going with this - we’re far from ideal caretakers for a victim of abuse if we can’t make them our number one priority.

Maito Dai bows low.

“You are gracious, Uchiha-sama. I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important. You don’t have to help, so whatever assistance you can provide is going above an beyond, as it were.

Mikoto nods politely at him, lips quirking slightly, charmed by this selfless man almost against her will.

 

Morino Rina speaks up next. She is a severe-looking woman, too masculine to be called beautiful, and littered with scars that speak of a lifetime of close range combat. Rina is unusually tall for a woman, and her wide back and heavily muscled frame suggest a taijutsu specialty. She stands for long enough to nod curtly to Mikoto and Fugaku, before reclaiming her seat. Her frame dwarfs that of Mikoto, but her no-nonsense demeanor and blank face are oddly calming. The Morino were another small Clan, closer to a large family than the large, powerful institutions of the Noble Clans. Nevertheless, it produced a constant amount of Chūnin and Jōnin, enough that they were established, but not enough to claim any particular notoriety. Rina herself was a reasonably competent Jōnin specializing in frontline combat.

“I would have been blunt either way, Uchiha-sama. I need and want nothing from your family. Uzumaki and Namikaze approached me, informing me that an infant is in danger of perishing from a sickness that could be prevented and that I could help.

“I am not in the business of rumors and gossip because I frankly don’t care. I dislike all Clans equally, and while I hold no animus towards Uchiha in particular, I never liked you enough to step in and help you with you with political games I personally have no skill in playing. However, dying children are a whole different animal, and I will help as I am able. As for payment - as much as, as a mother, it insults me to be compensated for not being a heartless animal, I suppose it could cause problems if one of the Noble clans is seen as indebted to a minor one like the Morino.

So I will be practical, and ask that my son Ibiki is granted an unpaid, voluntary internship in the criminology department of the Military Police. The boy is clever, cleverer than me by half, and fiercely interested in Law enforcement. If he proves unsuitable, kick him out, or not at your own discretion. “

Mikoto blinks and can’t help the small grin pulling at her lips.

“Morino-sama, don’t take this the wrong way, but you are an absolute delight. We would be honored to have your son work part-time in the Police Department. We will discuss the particulars at a more appropriate time, but if your son is anything like you, I can’t imagine him not having a productive time with us. Are you sure you would trust your son to a Noble clan you professed dislike to not a moment ago.”

Rina snorts.

‘Ibiki can take care of himself. The boy is a ruthless little thing, but a little wild right now. He was a battlefield baby, and with me being on the front lines more often than not, he’s in dire need of some authority in his life that he’d respect. He’s too clever to buy what the Chūnin at the academy are selling and too talented to disappear into the ranks. It is this or T&I, and his sadism isn’t something Iwould like to encourage. He’s got a vicious streak a mile long, I have no doubt he’d be a wonderful interrogator but would never even approach something like a normal human being. Also, please drop the ‘sama’, if you don’t mind. It’s Rina or Morino if you absolutely must.

Mikoto’s eyes sparkle.

“Mikoto then, or Uchiha _if you absolutely must._ I haven’t had a conversation this refreshing in a long time. Well, Rina-san, we're agreed. I am not surewhat we might ask of you at this time, but if nothing else, I can count on you being the voice of reason in any given situation.”

Rina nods lips quirked in a strangely endearing, crooked half-smile. 

“When you find a use for me, get in touch. With that, I leave you. I just returned from the frontlines yesterday when I was accosted by your pretty pair over there, and working with you will be worth it if only because I will not be jumped by such terrifying charisma. I swear the villagers swooned when they descended on me at the market. I much prefer your approach, Mikoto-san, no matter how pretty Namikaze is.”

 

Minato blinks at the woman looking politely confused, but Kushina chokes, muffled guffaws escaping her.

Mikoto’s smile widens.

“Well, darling Minato _is_ very pretty. I can’t say I blame them. Although, between the two of us, I think you three would get along famously.”

Rina’s look of skepticism is a thing of beauty but doesn’t offer any protest. 

She stands to leave, nodding at Mikoto and then Fugaku.

“Mikoto-san, Uchiha-sama.”

Fugaku, looking very entertained, stands up, handing Itachi to Minato. Bowing low, he looks at Rina charmingly.

“Fugaku, please. Uchiha will become tiring very soon. May I address you as Rina? It would be patently unfair if my wife was the only one afforded such a privilege, and you, my dear lady, strike me as eminently fair.”

Its Mikoto’s turn to look entertained, as the gruff woman blushes slightly, and looks taken aback. She frowns uncertainly and searches Fugaku’s face for a sign of ridicule, but there is nothing to find. Fugaku can be perfectly delightful when he wants to be, and he truly seems to admire the first person so far, barring Minato and Kushina, to offer her assistance freely. Looking slightly off balance, and with a blush high on her cheekbones, she nods uncertainly.

“Fugaku-san it is.”

With a baffled expression she shakes her head slightly and bids an absent farewell to the rest of the room, leaving with slightly hurried steps. A faint murmur of “ _too pretty by half, the lot of them_ ” is heard through the open door, and Mikoto bites her cheek. A true delight, that one. She makes a note to find a way to thank her personally. An internship is well and good, but such honesty is rarely found and should be rewarded.

 

She turns her attention to the room, notes the thunderstruck expression on Dai’s face and has to bite her cheek again. Konoha is a big village, and it’s entirely possible the two hadn’t been introduced before. She will watch how this situation develops with great interest, and possibly push it along, should it prove suitable. Mikoto didn’t bother with matchmaking much, but the two taijutsu experts would undoubtedly have much in common. Not to mention Dai is as close to perfectly honorable as you could get in their profession, and Rina's son could do much worse than him as a role model.

Tearing her eyes from the man with proverbial hearts in his eyes, she looks at the remaining Jōnin.

If she’s not very mistaken, she expects the Aburame will be next. Inoichi and Choza will follow Shukaku’s lead, and the man would want to gather as much information as he could before he’d speak up. How practical, she sneers internally. The Hyuuga are probably uncomfortable with everything, and she takes great pleasure at their disquiet, if for a different reason. The Hyuuga benefitted most from the Uchiha losing power, and while she knows the two never directly worked against them, they didn’t do a thing to stop it, and their vaunted sense of honor never prevented them from taking advantage.

It's even worse because Fugaku honestly _respects_ the two for their integrity and poise, even if they were never friends. He always enjoyed working with them on the field and spoke to Mikoto at great length about the unfairness of the brothers being separated into a main and branch house. He never said so, but she doesn't doubt for a second he’d love to be friends with the Hyuuga twins if they didn’t keep him at arm's length. She herself never felt that urge, because Kushina and then later darling Minato were more than enough for her, but Fugaku is different.

Not for the first time she is _fiercely_ glad for Kushina and Minato. It's entirely their doing that she’s currently in negotiation and not in the position of having to beg people she disdains greatly for their help. She _would_ , of course,but she’d probably have to bathe in their blood afterward, and life of a missing-nin never appealed to her.

 

A moment passes, and she is proven right when Aburame rises slightly, nodding at them, and sitting back immediately.

Aburame Shibi isn’t someone she knows very well, mostly because the man is the archetypal Aburame - nondescript features mostly hidden behind a high collar, and further concealed by large dark sunglasses. The ever-present noise of kikachu is very faint which speaks highly of his chakra control.

“I will repay your honesty with my own, Uchiha-sama. I was present when Uzumaki-san and Namikaze-san approached Shukaku, Inoichi, and Choza in the Jōnin lounge and volunteered my services as a way of repaying my personal debt with Namikaze-san. While in Konoha the notion of life-debts isn’t widely acknowledged, it’s still a highly respected tradition in the Aburame clan. A couple of weeks ago I would surely have perished if Namikaze hadn’t intervened in my fight, dispatching my opponent while I was critically injured. Even then I would have died if he hadn’t transported me by means of Hirashin, directly to Konoha’s hospital.

“Aburame clan stands with you in this. We might not be a clan of healers, but are very familiar with treating children with critical chakra exhaustion. The malady is an unfortunate but common side-effect of our own children acquiring their hives. While the treatments are designed for children aged five to ten, with the assistance of Orochimaru of the Sanin I have little doubt adaptations will be made without too much trouble.

He pauses for a moment and lets the information sink in. Mikoto is grateful for the pause, as she needs to push down the overwhelming relief and giddiness. Finally, something concrete. _They might just get out of this fucking mess alive._

When Shibi speaks again, not a single muscle twitches and his voice remains perfectly even, but somehow manages to convey the notion of displeasure.

“The discrimination against the Uchiha is something out clan has noticed, but as it is something we’re facing as well, we didn't think there was anything we could do to help. That was our mistake, and I apologize. I admit I assumed our attempts at assistance would have been rebuffed. It might interest you to know while our Jōnin get promoted regularly, our situations mirror each other regarding almost everything else. Aburame aren’t welcome as instructors in the academy, the ANBU or as Jōnin sensei. The entire Aburame clan is employed in the Hunter Division, are a part of the regular Jōnin pool, or they hold lowest positions in T&I. Not a single Aburame lives outside of the compound and we’re not welcome in most places populated by civilians, as our kikachu are alarming. Even our children can’t play on the public playgrounds because they’re apparently ‘unnatural’. We have long thought that for all we apparently value teamwork, that standard is only ever selectively applied. We were resigned to this, as the status-quo seemed to be established, and there seemed little to be done about it. We might have been wrong.

Mikoto is speechless. It was sometimes easy to overlook the Aburame. The Clan as a whole was unobtrusive to a fault and were intensely private. It shouldn't come as a surprise they were dissatisfied at the increasingly civilian orientated policies, that only ostracized the less “normal” Clans. Shibi was offering priceless information that she is in no way capable of processing now, as focused she is on her immediate family. Politics will come after, but she will not forget the formidable if unexpected ally that somehow fell into her lap.

She thanks the man, taking care to show her honesty but not overt emotion. It would only distress the man, and he’s already stepped far out of his comfort zone for this conversation. He didn’t have to offer half as much information as he had. She won’t thank him by making him uncomfortable.

He seems to notice, and he seems distinctly relieved as he sits down.

 

Darling Minato seems to be plotting, she notices fondly. Let him. He always wanted to be Hokage, and he would be wise to not discount what he’s heard. 

Shukaku is increasingly grim, and whatever else might be said for the man, he was everything but stupid. He can see the political map shifting as surely as she can. Good. Let the man sweat.

Hyuuga Hiashi stands with a determinedly polite expression that nonetheless seems resignedly determined. This is important to him. Interesting.

“Hizashi and I are resolutely not here in any official capacity. I will only say Uzumaki-sama and Namikaze-san offered me a service that I will do whatever it’s necessary for. It’s imperative that this remains a secret from the Hyuuga clan, hence us being here in an unofficial capacity. Rest assured, the importance of what I have been offered cannot be overstated, and I will do whatever you ask of us, barring treason and harm to our family.”

Hizashi sits quietly but looks at his brother with desperate gratitude mixed with alarm about his candor. Hiashi has all but sold his soul to Kushina and Minato, and Mikoto’s head is spinning.

She should really stop being blindsided by these situations. Kushina and Minato are apparently omnipotent. Why they’re not ruling the world is beyond her. And why on earth was all this influence sitting around, unused, before now? Within a day they bribed and blackmailed and browbeaten most of the major players of Konoha. Within a single day.

She looks at the brothers, and against her will, her heart thaws slightly. Whatever Hiashi’s after, it's personal and the only person in the whole world the man loves enough to do this for, sits beside him. Her weakness has always been familial love, and a bit of the grudge she’s been carrying crumbles. She’s on higher ground here, as the man is absolutely desperate. Minato and Kushina appear content to let things play out, and don’t seem like they’re about to reassure the man standing resolutely as if facing an execution. She’s not a kind woman and can be vicious and underhanded when riled, but she likes to think she’s not deliberately cruel.

She manages a tight smile and bows her head slightly. She can attempt to be gracious in her victory, this one time.

“No need to look so grim, Hyuuga-sama. I appreciate your willingness to help, but our only goal is to see Itachi well. We won’t take advantage of your generosity.”

Generosity has nothing to do with this, and they’re both aware of it, but he seems to accept the olive branch for what it is. He nods mutely and sits down next to his brother with an exhausted but still resolute manner. His brother looks like he would greatly like to fuss over him, but settles for brushing their shoulders slightly in a slight show of support. _They’re fucking adorable_ she admits grudgingly. They look much younger than their 24 years when they’re not hidden behind their Hyuuga facade. Her grudge fights valiantly but it crumbles completely, leaving only neutrality in its wake. She doesn't like them but she can respect a man who walks up to a woman as ruthless as she is, that already expressed her intense dislike towards them, and puts his life in her hands with basically no reservations.

 

She looks at Fugaku who has been completely silent since Rina left, content to watch and rest. He is watching the Hyuuga twins with something like regret in his eyes. Her kind husband isn’t as comfortable about this as she is. She needs to reassure they will entirely reasonable to the Hyuuga, and will in no way keep them hostage to their desperation. Their fears are reasonable but completely unfounded.

Her expression hardens with her heart as she looks at the last three silent clan heads. Shukaku has a pinched expression on his face and a distinctly grim air about him. The Yamanaka are masters of mind arts and they never show anything on their face that they don’t want to, so it doesn’t surprise her Inoichi is completely blank-faced, not a single emotion in the pupil-less eyes. The Akimichi clan head looks acutely discomforted, and he flinches slightly when he meets her eyes. He’s not used to such dislike, being as popular as he is. There’s guilt there, too, which makes her even angrier.

Not for the first time, she wonders why they’re here. She doubts there was anything for to bribe or blackmail them with, and Minato and Kushina aren’t stupid enough to try to threaten them into helping.

Shukaku doesn't look like he’s going to speak first. Well then.

“Well, Nara-sama. Would you like me to insult you or _beg_?”

 

The Nara’s mouth twists downwards unhappily.

“I apologize for my words earlier Uchiha-sama. They were in bad taste. I shouldn't have been so churlish.

There were things said here today that have given me much to think about. I know you don’t believe me but I’m not your enemy, and would consider you an ally if nothing else.”

He’s right, she doesn’t believe him and doesn't even try to hide it

He notices, as she intended him to, and sighs, looking much older.

“I apologize for whatever it’s worth. I have no excuse to offer you except the weak reasoning that it was never personal. I was simply lazy, and you suffered for it.

“When Kushina and Minato approached us, we didn’t give it much thought. He asked for our help regarding their godson’s medical condition. No matter what you believe of us, and some of it is doubtlessly well deserved, we don’t like letting Konoha children die, no matter who they are. Kushina and Minato didn’t feel the need to offer anything in return then, as I hope you won’t feel the need to do now. You could consider it payment for our complicity in your troubles.”

Mikoto narrows her eyes at the man, fighting a sneer from twisting her lips. She’s got a lot of anger in her, and while the men in front of her are not responsible for all of her worries, _they are for enough of them_. That they’re here and apologizing and offering help freely tears at her.

She looks to Minato and Kushina and they confirm the truth of his words with a nod.

She closes her eyes, grinding her teeth, and pushes her anger down. It's not doing her any favors right now. Itachi. Remember Itachi. He’s the only important thing right now. She can be professional, she worked with people she hated before, this is no different.

Face closing in an impersonal mask, she nods curly at the three friends.

“Alright. The life of my son for a lifetime of grudges. It's a deal.”

Choza’s flinch is a full-body thing, and Shukaku’s shoulders hunch inwards, bowing his head. Inoichi is as expressionless as she is, and she almost likes him for it. They suggested the deal themselves, they can live with it.

“Alright. With that, we’re done. Thank you for coming.

Exhaustion is hitting her like a goddamn Tsunami, and she murmurs generic phrases, trying not to look as dazed as she feels. She sits down finally, after what feels like it was an age, but was in reality less than a few hours, and closes her eyes. Fugaku’s arm squeezes her shoulder, and she allows the sense of victory to fill her. They won this round.

 

 


	10. of power and trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a plan. And food. And eldritch assassin-snakes.

 

Everybody being pretty drained from the emotional discussion, the meeting was dispersed in short order. One Hirashin later, and the two couples were once again in the safety of the Den. Fugaku and Mikoto are still very much recovering, and Kushina and Minato spent the night awake, working, so by mutual agreement, they decide to postpone the discussion about the meeting until tomorrow. They toy with the idea of taking shifts to take care of Itachi but decided to circumvent the issue by the grace of Kage Bunshins.

 

Another line of defense is Yuki, Orochimaru’s little messenger snake, that Fugaku doesn't buy for a _second_ is anywhere near harmless as she looks. When the little summon poked her head outside of his collar to scent her new surroundings, Minato and Kushina almost jumped out of their skin. The overpowered wards should have damn well kept her out, and the two look ridiculously spooked, looking warily at the little white snake like it’s the shinigami itself.

On one hand, he is deeply disturbed that his guest could have been hurt, because Fugaku forgot about the _Kami damned Wards_ \- its only luck that Yuki is, in fact, an eldritch assassin-snake and doesn't have a chakra signature. Otherwise, best case scenario - she dispels and goes back to the Ryūchi Cave. Worst case, the little thing is labeled an intruder and is promptly shredded.

On the other hand, it's so hilarious to see his flabbergasted friends look bug-eyed at the snakeling, clearly freaked out and oscillating between academic trauma at the impossibility and instinctual shinobi respect towards something dangerous. Kushina, who has the Kyūbi, and is as close to indestructible as you get, and Minato who slaughters a battlefield full of shinobi without blinking an eye, are treating a foot long, pencil wide, completely adorable reptile as a dangerous predator.

Yuki is taking it all in stride (pun intended) and is playing as innocent as snakes can get. She’d be batting her eyelashes if she had any. Alas, her anatomy is against her in this, but she is giving it a valiant attempt. 

 

Fugaku makes it a point to, before he goes to sleep, go out into the forest and hunt a few mice himself to serve as snake-snacks. Yuki is, broadly speaking, _their_ guest, but he accepted her personally, and damn if he will let the animal be hungry. Quite aside of the fact that every summon of Orochimaru is going to be just as vicious as the man is, and shouldn’t be angered _if at all avoidable_ , the summon is a polite little thing. Not to mention her witty, dry commentary, once she overcame initial wariness, was wonderfully amusing. Besides, chances are this is the last opportunity to personally feed his guest. Minato and Kushina are shinobi to the core, and he just knows they will take the tried and true method of seducing dangerous neutral entities. Granted, Yuki is a snake, so traditional seduction techniques are out of the question, but that won’t stop them from pampering the snakeling within an inch of its life.

 

In the half an hour he and Yuki traipsed around the woods, looking for mice, Fugaku learned more about snakes than he thought there was to know. Yuki was especially indignant about the misinformation that snakes are asocial creatures, that don’t live together. She’s in the middle of describing the complicated social networks and the systems of communal dens when they return home. Fugaku tries to listen politely, he really does, but he’s exhausted, and his head is already overflowing with information. He umm’s and aah’s at appropriate times and is content to listen to the sibilant hissing sounds. It's hard to tell ages with summoning animals, but he’d wager Yuki is what passes for a teenager in the snake world.

 

Finally, the four adults, one infant, and one assassin-snake are curled up in a loose pile, in the same room with all of Itachi’s supplies.

Minato snagged Itachi, by virtue of being the only one of the group that never fed the boy, and is the picture of intense concentration that is frankly comical given the simple nature of the task. Finally, he finishes, puts the boy to sleep, and tucks himself on Fugaku’s left.Fugaku is slouching, propped up by multiple pillows, with Mikoto tucked into his side on the right. He is eating his way through one of the dishes Minato brought last time - an Iwa dish this time. It wasn’t something he’d tried before - a stir fry with beef, tomatoes, onions, and peppers. A strong scent of mint and coriander wafts from the dish and _sweet Amaterasu, how are people from Iwa such bastards when they have this_. Fugaku would’ve been a chef if he was born in Iwa, damn the clan and responsibility and the lot. The _tomatoes_ , the _mint_. It's a fucking religious experience, and he valiantly ignores his wife that’s sleepily mocking him. What does she know, she ate _Sukiyaki_ , and while he has nothing in principle against Sukiyaki, it’s a pretty standard combination of beef/vegetable/tofu. “It’s not her fault,” he croons to the dish cradled to his chest. “She doesn't even like tomatoes. We have to be sympathetic to the less fortunate soul that was probably born with some sort of hidden disfiguring birth defect.”

Kushina has already commenced the campaign to win Yuki’s love, and the snakeling obviously doesn't know how to deal with the onslaught of friendliness. She’s curled up on a resplendent purple pillow, right on top of a quickly improvised heating seal, being politely and none too subtly interrogated about things snakes like.

Mikoto is first to nod off, just around the time night finally fell. Kushina migrated next to Minato sometime during the evening and fell asleep with her head in his lap. Minato gave up on his heavy medical book somewhere around the same time, and sort of slid downwards, until he was cushioned just bellow Mikoto on Fugaku’s lap. Yuki is wrapped around a clone of Kushina that’s watching over Itachi quietly. All of his family is present, and Fugaku is content to just sit and relax in a rare moment of perfect peace. Descent into sleep is a slow thing, but when he drifts off, his dreams are lovely things, filled with laughter and warmth.

 

***

 

The next morning is a lighthearted affair. Everybody’s cheerful, energized, buoyed by yesterday’s success. After a languid breakfast, the family settles down in what’s been officially named Itachi’s room, to discuss yesterday’s findings. They don’t have anything else planned for today, at least not until Orochimaru contacts them in the evening.

 

Minato can see Fugaku and Mikoto practically vibrating from curiosity.

After a few moments of silent communication, it's decided he is the better one to handle the explanations.

 

Minato closes his eyes for a long moment, and when he opens them previous levity is wiped clear. His eyes sharpen and a heavy cloak of authority settles comfortably on his shoulders.

 

“Alright. I think I should start with the main issue - Itachi’s condition. We’ve had some time to think, and maybe this answer will be obvious to you, but we’ve decided the plan with the highest chance of success are - seals.

“My reasoning for this is thus: Kushina and I are currently the best living seal masters alive. Everything that can be done with chakra that can be accomplished by seals. Now, if we _had_ a handy master healer like Hashirama Senju or even Tsunade, we might have gone down that route. But. We’re better at Fūinjutsu than the available healers are at Iryōjutsu.

“I will explain our exact plan regarding the necessary Fūinjutsu, and then you can decide if you think its feasible. For the record, Kushina and I think it is.

 

“So let's approach the problem scientifically. Itachi is essentially spending too much energy than he is producing. That's the root of the problem. The rest of the symptoms are gruesome and dangerous but are all a consequence of the underlying imbalance.

“The simplest solution would then be a chakra transfusion. Now, typical chakra transfusion is impossible because of practical reasons - its a _very_ stressful procedure for the patient, and Itachi is already weak enough that the cure will kill him. But theoretically, it would be the perfect solution.

“So - we develop a seal to accomplish just that - a seal that would allow direct chakra transfusion into Itachi’s system without putting undue stress on him. 

 

“It would, in an overly simplistic way of speaking, serve as both as a transfusion and as a converter - it would essentially be fed foreign chakra, which it would then convert it to Itachi’s chakra, and finally inject straight into his chakra network. Typical chakra transfusions administered by med-nin look a bit like this: the medic injects their own chakra into the patient's system,the patient’s system fights the influx of foreign chakra, and then has to subsequently transform it to something usable. The energy spent in the conversion is almost equal to the amount of chakra it can absorb - so it’s not a practical solution.

“ _But_ with a seal, the patient isn’t wasting energy on fighting foreign chakra, or on converting it. Not only that, but the seal generates a perfectly steady output of chakra that we can manipulate as needed. We could pump the seal full of chakra, and then let it slowly be transferred to Itachi over a period of hours, days, weeks, however long we decide. That’s also something that’s impossible to do manually - chakra transfusions are difficult procedures, that require more chakra control than is typically available. The average medic could maybe stretch the transfusion over fifteen-twenty minutes, tops.

 

“Now, when I say seal, I mean a complex system of seals. In this case, trying to streamline the process would be a mistake, I think. Our priority isn’t elegance or speed, but safety. If we build an extensive network of seals we can build in failsafe-s every step of the way.

“If we manage to do this properly, Itachi is out of the woods. There will be some additional work, but he is out of mortal danger for good.

 

“What’s important right now is this: we were all fortunate enough to secure Orochimaru’s assistance. Once he was on board, this became an as sure thing as we could ever hope for. If he hadn’t ben amenable, we’d have had to work somewhat blindly. I can say without hubris that Kushina and I together can match any great Uzumaki Fūinjutsu master. What we lack is medical and biological expertise, and Orochimaru is the best scientist in the Elemental Nations right now. The man is a genius at the very least equal to us, without taking into account the massive age difference - all of which he spent learning. Once Orochimaru was on board, everything else was pretty much optional.

“So. That’s our plan. What do you think?”

 

Fugaku is torn. On one hand, he is _awed_ by his friends. The plan they came up with just seems too good to be true. But. The fear is paralyzing. What Minato outlined seems logical and clear. But it’s also so outlandish. The entire field of Fūinjutsu is so fantastical to him it might as well be magic. It seems like so much can go wrong, and they wouldn’t even know what to look for. His heart is racing, and a wave of anxiety almost chokes him. It’s all he can do to keep his expression calm and arrange his features into something attentive.

 

Mikoto leans forward, every muscle in her body tense. “Minato, Kushina, _please_ don’t take this the wrong way. You’re aware we only have one shot at this. Whatever we decide here and now is what we will have to stick with. It's a very important decision. And neither Fugaku or I know the first thing about seals or medicine. We need to make a decision, where a mistake means Itachi’s life is forfeit, and we have to make it on faith alone. So. Answer me honestly, as honestly as you can. Can you do it? Can we trust you with this?”

 

*** 

 

The question hangs in the air, and the atmosphere is suddenly heavy. Minato watches the couple sharply. Something is _off_ about the couple and he can't quite put his finger on it. Kushina opens her mouth to answer them, but Minato nudges her, shaking his head subtly. Her brow furrows in a puzzled frown, but she nevertheless backs off, sensing the suddenly tense atmosphere.

 

Minato speaks slowly, carefully keeping his voice and demeanor soothing.

 

“We can. With Orochimaru and Hyuuga we can. I’d bet my life on it. More importantly, I’d bet Itachi’s life on it, and I love that boy like he was my own.

“But darling, things aren’t quite as dire as all that. The most important thing is to stabilize him. I’m positive it can be done, and just by doing that we’ve bought ourselves enough time to work things out further. This is _far_ from the only option. Sure, it’s what we’ve come up with so far, but we’ve only had _one day_ to think about this. We didn’t even consult with Orochimaru yet. The last thing we want to do is to pressure you into anything.“

 

Kushina is looking at him incredulously, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone, but Minato can’t spare her any attention right now. “ _Alright_ ,” breathes Mikoto. “That’s… _perfect_ …” Her sharp focus shatters into a thousand pieces, and the woman physically sags in relief, eyes dazed. Fugaku, however, is struggling, caught in the grips of - what appears to be an anxiety attack. Minato just _knows_ the man didn't hear a word he just said. _Fuck._

 

He looks at Mikoto, who’s too dazed to help. Asking anything from her right now would be cruel. She’d try, but the couple has been pushing down their emotions too much already. And he, the _fool_ he is, didn't realize how close they were to snapping.

 

He rises from his sprawl, and inches closer to Fugaku, being careful to telegraph his movements, for all the nonexistent chance that Fugaku is at least semi-aware of his surroundings. Yuki rises from Fugaku’s neck, hissing quietly. The snake isn’t aggressive, but there’s a clear note of warning in her hiss. “I'm not going to hurt him, I just want to help.”

The snake watches him for a couple of long moments but relents when the man she’s wrapped around starts shaking minutely. From the corner of his eye, he notices Kushina has bundled up Mikoto and is murmuring something to her soothingly. _Good_.

Movements painfully slow, he kneels in front of the trembling man and reaches a tentative hand. He’d be happier if the Fugaku flinched, or even attacked him out of reflex. But the man is insatiate enough to be beyond startling. Fuck. At least he’s breathing, _thank Sage for small mercie_ s.

 

He wraps his arms around Fugaku and brings him slowly but firmly into a hug. He bends down enough to whisper soothingly into his ear, one arm rubbing circles into his back.

“ _Listen_ to me Fugaku. Everything is _fine_. Mikoto and Itachi are here. You're safe. We’re in the Den. Just focus on the sound of my voice. It’s all going to be alright, I swear on my life.”

He stands patiently as a couple of long minutes tick by, rubbing soothing circles into broad shoulders and is considering rocking the man slowly when Fugaku starts stirring. He knows better than to let go of him. That whole clan was touch starved, and the worst that can happen is that the man gets flustered. He can deal with prickly Uchihas. What he can't deal with is the thought that his friend might have needed a _goddamn hug_ , and didn't get one. He is proven right when Fugaku tenses, and after a long moment of inner struggle, sags into the embrace, circling his arms around Minato weakly.

“I'm so sorry Minato,” croaks Fugaku. “I just - I - You said decide and I -‘

The man sounds broken, and Minato’s heart is shattering all over again, Izanami fucking wept, how many times can a heart break in three fucking days.

“ _Please_ don’t apologize, dear heart,” he murmurs. “I couldn't imagine the amount of stress you're in, even if I was fool enough to try. Just relax for me, and breathe. You haven’t missed much. I was just saying to Mikoto that we’re certain we can stabilize Itachi with Orochimaru’s aid. We don’t need to decide anything further right now.“

Fugaku flinches one of those heart-shredding full-body twitches. “Kami, I'm such a fucking disaster Minato. I'm stuttering like a half-wit and holding you up. Please, you have to understand, I'm so _grateful_ \- we’re so grateful. I don’t even know what we’d be doing if it wasn’t for you - I can’t- we - _fuck_ \- “

Minato feels Fugaku’s heart start racing as the man starts stuttering broken thanks and apologies.

“Hush now, dearest. Don’t thank me for anything you wouldn’t appreciate me thanking you for if our situations were reversed. _Please_ darling, _please_ calm now. You're marginally better, but you shouldn't stress your heart too much right now.“

The man melts further into his embrace and starts forcibly regulating his breathing. It's working and Fugaku’s heart rate starts evening out. Minato is painfully aware of how little that actually means. Shinobi were old hands at repressing panic attacks that sneak up on them, and Uchiha were better at that than most. Fugaku is still trapped in whatever hell he fell into, he’s just good at regulating his fucking heartbeat.

 

Minato’s knees are protesting the position he found himself in. Somehow despite all the pillows, he’s kneeling on the _goddamn floor_ with an armful of a trembling Uchiha, and a snake besides. He makes an executive decision and twists around, throwing himself into the Nest, not relinquishing his hold on Fugaku. They land awkwardly, but it’s a damn sight better than the half kneeling half sitting disaster of before.

Its work of a moment to shift them into something more comfortable, and then he’s suddenly in a rather suggestive position, laying back with Fugaku sprawled over him, head tucked into his neck, all but knocked out from coming down from the adrenaline rush.

He’d laugh if things weren’t so fucked up. He turns to look at Kushina who looks - lost. Mikoto is still out of it, cradled in her arms.

When Fugaku seems to have dozed away slightly, he slowly extracts himself and gestures to Kushina to do the same with Mikoto. Slowly they lay the couple next to each other, and move away slightly. Kushina has a crazed look in her eyes, the sudden meltdown has taken her completely by surprise. Well, he shouldn't throw stones. He’s got so much adrenaline running through his veins he’d welcome a nice bloody battle-front to butcher his stress away.

 

He blindly grabs for a piece of paper and a brush and scribbles a silence seal, altered slightly so it stops sound from escaping the area it covers. They need to keep their family within view, but they also need to talk. This is _ridiculous_.

Kushina looks at him, lost. 

“What just happened. Why are they like this. This is good news. What do we do Minato? _How do we fix this?_ ”

Minato cards a hand through his hair agitatedly.

“I think, love, that in our hurry to come up with a solution as quickly as possible we overlooked the fact that our friends are _traumatized to Hell and back_. And there’s blessedly little we can do about it. _Fuck_.”

 

Kushina cuts a wary eye at him. “You’re angry.”

 

He inhales sharply, trying to not give in to his anger. “ _Yes Kushina_ , I’m furious. At you, at me, at the fucking _Hokage_. Mostly I’m fucking terrified.You don’t know how _close_ Fugaku came to dying two days ago. And if you think Mikoto is better off just because she seems strong, you’re lying to yourself. They’re already half convinced that Itachi will be better off without them, and its only for fear of us not getting custody that they didn’t fucking kill themselves. They’re at the end of their rope Kushina, and I don’t know how to pull them back. “

 

A cloying feeling of helplessness surges through his veins, but he’s an old hand at covering helplessness into rage and rage into hyper-focused productive anger.

 

“One other thing occurred to me, while Fugaku was _begging_ me to forgive him. He was _terrified_ of me Kushina,” whispers Minato hollowly. “He was so desperate for me to know how grateful he was, how sorry he was for inconveniencing me with his _fucking panic attack_. I think this is serious darling. We overlooked this because we’re fucking idiots, but think about it. The balance of power in our relationship changed drastically. Every hope they have of their son surviving lies with us. We have the knowledge, we have the resources, we have the connections. You _know_ how strongly they love. They would let us cut off limbs, all the while saying what they think we want them to say. “

 

Kushina looks heartbroken, her beautiful face is twisted in horror, and Minato wants to reach out, to comfort her somehow, but his grief is rivaled by anger, and the unholy combination of the two is too close to the surface right now.

 

“Are you sure Minato? It could just be the stress?”

 

Minato laughs ruefully.

 

“Darling, _look_ at them. Does this look like a normal reaction to you? I never imagined there was a depth of trauma necessary to bring Fugaku to this state. The man was stuttering and begging Kushina, and I just. Can’t. Think. About. It. Right. Now.”

He bites off each word sharply and inhales sharply. Calm the fuck down Minato. In - Out - In - Out.

 

Kushina looks - scared. As scared as he ever saw her.

 

“You know what else just fucking _galls_ right now? The fact this could have been _so much fucking worse_. Already, I look back at some of the interactions I’ve had with Fugaku, and I can't be sure if I pushed too hard or not. The whole business with the flirting - old Fugaku would’ve _skewered_ me if I tried something like that. At the time, I took it as a sign of trust, that he’s finally unbending some, but now. _I just don’t know._ Everything seems just so much more sinister now.

Imagine what would’ve happened if you started to bicker with Mikoto like you normally do. Or if I continued with the flirting. Fucking hell Kushina, _how far would they have let me go?_ ”

 

Kushina snaps out of her horrified daze and looks at Minato who’s working himself up into a meltdown, and that’s just _not on_. She steels her spine and catches him firmly by the shoulders.

 

“Now hold on for just one goddamn second. I understand this situation is fucked up. _Yes_ , we’ve got too much potential blackmail material and not enough actual authority, which makes things tricky. _Yes_ , we could easily take advantage of them. Yes to all of that. But we didn’t _do anything wrong_ so far. We _didn’t_ take advantage of them. You’re not a Kami-forsaken _rapist_ , any more than I am.

If we don’t want to take advantage of them, we simply _won’t do it_. It’s as easy as that. We caught it before any serious damage was caused. They still trust us, we’re still their main support, and that’s all that matters. Now we can think about making some sort of arrangement with them to make sure they never feel like our help is conditional in any way.”

 

Minato is tense under her arms, muscles clenching and unclenching, looking like a wild thing.

 

“You make it sound so simple. Like we know the _first thing_ about being responsible for two suicidal Uchihas with a martyr complex. Oh, and a sick infant that we’re designing experimental treatment for. _One_ mistake, Kushina, and we could break them. I can't trust they will be honest with me Kushina, and I _can't trust myself._ ”

 

Kushina raises a very unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you done with your hissy fit. So things aren’t ideal. _Tough_. Life is pain. They’re traumatized but they’re not mentally challenged. We are all reasonable people, by shinobi standards. _We will work it out_. There are libraries full of books on how to handle trauma. What we don’t know, we will learn. And in the meantime, we will make sure we make no demands of them, and stop flirting. Not that either of us will be very inspired to flirt after this conversation.”

 

Minato is looking at her disbelieving, perfectly conveying that he doesn’t think she’s taking this seriously enough.

 

“Don’t look at me like that. I know this shit is serious, and may I remind you this whole ‘being careful’ shtick is more up your alley than mine. I haven’t been ‘careful’ with _anyone_ a day in my fucking _life_. I'm a blunt asshole, and I like being one. But if I have to re-think every single fucking word that comes out of my mouth for the next little while, I will do so _with a smile on my face._ So we have a lot of power over them right now. I have the fucking Kyūbi no Kitsune in my stomach. I have a lot of power over _every single person in this Kami-forsaken village_ , but you don’t hear me moaning about it. You’ve been nothing but careful with them, for Sage’s sake. It’s not like you’re suddenly going to discover your inner sadist, and start humiliating them and destroying their psyche for shits and giggles.

 

Minato has a confused look on his face like he dearly wants to continue to panic, but Kushina’s onslaught of brutal common sense is making it difficult.

 

“ _Right_. Okay. You’re right. We will be careful until we make up some sort of arrangement where we balance the power somewhat.

 

With a huff, Kushina releases him and tosses her hair agitatedly. She stretches her lips into something that once met a smile, obviously trying to appear normal, but actually ending up closer to furious.

 

“ _Well_ , this has all been fucking exhausting. I need some ramen and I need it _now_. You stay here with the trauma twins, and I'm going to get me some Ichiraku’s. I'll even bring some for you, even though you don’t deserve it. Oh and some of the tomato dish from Iwa Fugaku was making sweet love to, and some Sukiyaki for Mikoto. And a toy for Itachi because he should be rewarded for being the only person not being a fucking _disaster_ right now. _Izanami fucking wept, my life._

 

***


	11. damned if you do, damned if you don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there are politics and blackmail.

 

 

Kushina returned with food around the same time the Fugaku and Mikoto wake up. The food was an excellent idea, muses Minato. It gives us all something to focus on, and a good way to avoid talking about uncomfortable topics. He can physically see how uncomfortable his friends are, but at the same time, if they start apologizing again, he might cry, and nothing will get done. As it is, he savors the uncomfortable silence, seeding a quiet thank you to the skies for his friends' propensity for brooding in silence. Brooding is excellent, brooding is _amazing_ in fact. He could do without the feral edge to their strained smiles, but he’ll take what he can get at this point.

 

After the meal was over, the Uchiha’s seem to be settled enough to continue the conversation. They’re nowhere near stable, thinks Minato grimly, but Orochimaru is coming in a few hours, and they absolutely need to get on the same page here.

Kushina opens the discussion with her signature flair. She changed into a deep purple yukata, that does wondrous things with her crimson hair and violet eyes. An irreverent grin pulls at her lips, as she lounges on the pillows. “As we’ve mentioned approximately a million times so far, Orochimaru was the lynchpin, so we decided to go strong there. I thought it’s best I go alone to meet him, in a place where he feels most comfortable - his labs. Minato is unfortunately associated with Jiraiya which would only put his back up, and he never seemed like the type to be easily charmed by pretty blondes.

“Long story short, I offered him a hundred Uzumaki seals and promised to teach him ten of them in depth. We thought it best to err on the side of caution, so I threw in one supervised visit to Uzushio, barring the Libraries, where he could record anything he wanted.

She pauses, knowing her friends won’t understand the enormity of the bribe, but still expecting some sort of reaction. At the very least, the visit should be surprising - Uzushio ruins are sealed away by the strongest blood Wards in the history of Elemental Nations. As Uzushio was the one and only village that was destroyed and not looted, many _many_ people have tried entering the ruins. So far only two people have passed the Wards since the village fell - her and Minato. 

Fugaku and Mikoto seem uncertain, and Mikoto pipes up. “I'm guessing that’s a ludicrously generous offer?”

Kushina’s smile grows into a foxy, sly thing. “He point-blank told me he’s not killing the Hokage. He seemed so regretful, it was _hilarious_. I explained what we needed, and Kami, he looked at me like I was mad. He deadpanned ‘I would have helped you for the seals alone.’ It was quite sweet actually.”

“I don’t understand”, offered Mikoto uncertainly. “The visit is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, to be sure. But the seals? Are Uzumaki seals that valuable? I mean, the knowledge is not _that_ hidden. Almost all the seals we use in Konoha are Uzumaki in origin.”

 

Kushina smiles wryly. “They are _absolutely_ that valuable. Priceless, really. But, a hundred seals is nothing for me. The island is sealed, and I’m the only one with access to the Seal Library. The Uzumaki have existed for hundreds of years, and we’ve worked with seals almost exclusively since our inception. My clan is older than the Uchiha or the Senju. Also, in that whole time, we’ve been based in the same place. Uzu village is more than 700 years old, in some shape. It began as a house, then grew into a clan compound and expanded from there.

“But we're going off course. We’ve bribed Orochimaru with, for me an insignificant amount of knowledge, and for him, something he’d cheerfully assassinate the Tsuchikage, and maybe throw in the Raikage for good measure.

 

She stretches like a smug cat that ate the canary that brought its own cream, and twists so she’s laying in Minato’s lap. Wise to her ways, Minato just placidly begins petting her hair and picks up the narrative. “Once we got that everything was more or less settled - so we went about seeing who we could grab to make our lives easier.

 

“I thought a Hyuuga would be useful because we could use someone to monitor Itachi’s chakra as we develop and implement the seal scheme. It helped that we already knew what we would offer them.“

Kushina bares her teeth in a smile. “The Cage Bird seal is Uzumaki work, and when I find out which depraved _maniac_ designed it I will strike their name from the records, and posthumously exile them, because _fuck_ _them_.”

Minato pats her hand absently. “So we offered to take off the Hizashi’s seal and replace it with one only he can activate, so he could destroy the Byakugan if it was ever necessary.

“Kushina can deactivate it in an hour. I will be able to after about a week of studying. The only delay will be the design of the second seal. We also offered to teach the twins how to remove the Caged Bird seal and how to apply the replacement one. Since neither of them has the first clue about sealing, that will probably take a while, so in the meantime, we will take of the Caged Bird of anyone that asks, and apply the replacement one.

A dark look crosses Minato’s face, and his voice is a dark rasp when he speaks.

“I admit, neither I nor Kushina interacted much with the Hyuuga, so we didn’t know how they would react. If we knew we wouldn’t be as… _rash_ as we were.”

His eyes gain a haunted shadow. “You didn’t see them Fugaku. Hiashi dropped to his knees and begged - _begged_ \- me for the seal. They’re so goddamn indoctrinated it didn’t even occur to them that they could have done anything before now. They’re powerful wealthy men, they could’ve just _asked_ Mito-sama. But the seal has been a part of their clan so long, and it's so ingrained in them that it can’t be removed that just us mentioning it can be done literally blew their minds.

“He offered to do whatever we wanted for however long we wanted it - forever if it takes. The proudest man in Konoha offered himself as a _slave_ , and it just makes me so fucking _angry_ , you have no idea.

“There wasn’t much time to reassure him, because we had less than an hour to talk it out, and the second half of that time was spent with the twins duking it out then and there about which one will be my goddamn slave. For Sage’s sake, that family is _so fucked up_. Hiashi spent his whole life with the guilt of being born first by a couple of seconds and sentencing his brother to be in the branch house. He loathes himself so much, you have _no idea_. I swear, he was almost _glad_ there was something horrifying he could do redeem himself. Once he said that Hizashi spent his whole life as a slave to the Main House, and its ‘only fair’ Hiashi does the same I fucking lost it and smacked them.

“Then they started to listen enough that I could explain that we only need the one specific thing from them, and they need to stop with this self-sacrificing bullshit. The agreement is that we work on the seal once Itachi is healed, but I kind of want to do it as soon as I fucking can. Thank god for Kage Bunshin.

 

Fugaku is beyond horrified. “How did we not offer this already”, he murmurs. “Mikoto and I are angry at the Noble clans for not interfering with the Uchiha’s discrimination, but we all stood by and watch as half of the Hyuuga are enslaved. To offer their salvation as blackmail material… _Fucking hell_ , I want their help but not at that cost.

 

Mikoto is equally horrified even if it’s not as noticeable. “Hypocrisy is not new to the Uchiha my love. We will be better, I can promise you that. “

 

Minato takes one look at the Uchiha and hurries along. This is a sensitive topic and his friends aside, _he_ is nowhere near stable enough to discuss consent and fucked up power imbalances.

“Moving on, Maito Dai was a good choice because when we get over the initial hurdles, Itachi will have a long recovery period, with extensive amounts of physical therapy. We don’t know how exactly his condition and our solution will impact his physical development, and that’s where Dai comes in. Not to mention he has a young son, Gai, that’s a budging taijutsu expert - so Dai is already well versed in child-development and training. It doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly well liked around the village, and is honorable to a fault.

“He agreed to help and has asked us to help Sakumo Hatake in return.

 

“Man, this fucking village has gone to the dogs,” growls Kushina with her head still in Minato’s lap. “If Dai is telling the truth, the man is a _step_ from suicide, and we, idiots that we are, didn’t even know. Minato’s idiot of a sensei didn’t even mention it, and he’s supposed to be friends with the man. No, gallivanting across the continent, spying on people we don’t even care about, is more important than making sure _motherfucking White Fang_ doesn’t off himself because the civvies are dumb, and shinobi are fucking idiots that need someone to blame.

“ _As if_ a single man started a war. Did he declare war on Iwa? He did his goddamn job. If the village sends her shinobi on sketchy missions that will piss off the other Kage, then its the Hokage’s damn fault. His and the Kage’s that actually declared war.

 

Minato squeezes her shoulder in commiseration, a bitter smile playing at his lips. “As you can see, Kushina might have an epic fangirl crush on Hatake-sama. One that I may or may not share. During her apprenticeship with Mito-sama, she wouldn’t stop bugging her about Kenjutsu, so Mito-sama practically threw her at the man. You should have seen her when she returned with stars in her eyes. She was _crowing_ about being taught by the ‘motherfucking White Fang’ for months.

“As you can imagine, we were horrified and assured him we would help either way. He warned us the man’s samurai roots have driven him almost over the edge of suicide, and that he shouldn’t be left alone in his empty compound for an extended period of time. So I said we can take him if it comes to that.

“Which brings me to my apology. I stupidly promised to help Hatake-same, before consulting you. This is your home as well, and I should have asked first. So I apologize. If you’re not comfortable with having Hatake-sama here, we will figure something out. Maybe we’ll seal off half of the compound, and have him reside there, or we can build him a separate little house on the property but not directly connected to the house. Whatever would make you more comfortable.”

 

Fugaku looks at Mikoto and nods resolutely. Mikoto smiles at Minato. “Darling, I am a Kenjutsu mistress. If you think I will pass the opportunity to sink my claws into the White Fang, you are out of your mind. Quite a bit of my teenage fantasies starred that man. Some of them even didn’t center on his blood on my blades.”

Fugaku looks at her, shocked. She smirks at him, coy. “Don’t worry my love,” she coos. “You were in each and every one of them. It was usually your honor I was defending, after all.“

She sits back, smug as a cat, as Fugaku physically hears all of his blood rush to his head. Izanami fucking wept, the woman will be the end of him. _But hell, what a way to go_.

 

He looks over at Minato and Kushina, who are both looking at him appraisingly. ‘You know, I _can_ see it,” muses Kushina. “It’s the cheekbones. They make for such a good princess.” Minato is nodding along sagely, and Fugaku despairs.

 

“Can we continue” he grits out.

 

Kushina is gracious enough to take pity on him. “We saw Rina on our way to the Jōnin lounge. Neither of us knew her beforehand, so we went the tried and true method of throwing Minato’s pretty face at her. It didn’t work at all, shockingly. She couldn’t have been less impressed with us. But in for a Ryō, you know, so he soldiered on. It was _hilarious_ to watch, Minato turned on the charm to the max, and Rina just looked at us blank-faced, like she couldn’t even understand who is this maniac that goes around accosting people at the Market. It was all I could do to not pee myself laughing. In the end, she was charmed more by his tenacity than by anything else. “

Kushina cackles, eyes sparkling at the memory. “That is one no-nonsense woman. If her son has even half of her charm he will have Uchiha girls and boys falling over themselves to be his ‘sparring partner’.”

Fugaku cracks a smile. “It will do our youth good. An outsider, favored by their Clan Head, that is completely unimpressed by pretty faces will be very popular. I must remember to throw the boy at Tamako - that will seal his fate. Little Ibiki-kun will have his own little following of socially stunted gangly teenagers trying to be aloof and friendly at the same time. It will be a treat.”

 

Minato sobers slightly for the next part of the story. He knows the InoShikaCho alliance are not held in high esteem by Mikoto and Fugaku. Honestly, he can’t blame them. But. He is aware just how much influence the three clans wield in the village.

 

“And then we have Shikaku, Inoichi, and Choza. “

 

“Now they are a very important, interesting case. I'll start with what want from them in regards to the Little Prince.”

We went to InoShikaCho mostly because of the Akimichi medicine. Its doubtful that they would let us study them directly, but it doesn’t matter either way because we’re mostly interested in the secondary effects. The Akimichi transformation is closely followed by a huge increase in metabolic function, so their bodies have to ingest huge amounts of food, to replenish the energy lost. That increase in metabolic rate and the increase in the rate of energy absorption is what we’d like to study. Their treatments could be something that we could replicate to an extent, either via diet or seals.

“Secondly, there is a real chance Itachi will be traumatized by this experience. He is essentially starving, which is instinctively traumatizing. On top of that, his physical development is stunted, which is likely to cause acute agony. Now, normally we would worry about this at all since he’s an infant and doesn’t have the ability to form any memories yet. However, the Sharingan complicates matters - there is a chance of memory retention. The Yamanaka know everything there is to know about the mind, and we might have to work with them to know what we should expect, what we should worry and so on.

“As for the Nara, the increased mental activity and real genius usually result in an increase of spiritual chakra. A slight imbalance has already been noted in Itachi - and his delayed physical development might exacerbate the problem further. On the other hand, Uchiha genetics are a fearsome thing, and every Uchiha has a large amount of physical chakra. But the Nara are famous for their intelligence and increased mental development - and in them, the amount of spiritual chakra is markedly higher than the physical. It’s not clear if that’s a coincidence or a side-effect of their bloodline limit, but it’s something to keep in mind.“

 

Fugaku can’t help but sneer slightly. One look at Mikoto shows that she shares his misgivings. “You make a good point Minato. _But_ correct me if I’m wrong here, most of what you mentioned we need from them, we were already offered from other, rather more trustworthy sources. The Aburame offered their treatments for children with chakra exhaustion, Orochimaru absolutely knows more about being a genius than the Nara do, and I will _gleefully_ feed any Yamanaka that goes near Itachi’s mind to Mikoto.”

 

“Fugaku is right,” bites out Mikoto. “The absolute _most_ I will trust them to do is to not actively work to undermine us. They came to the meeting to gather information, and because you invited them - fishwives in Wave know you are all but named our next Hokage. How convenient for them, to have suddenly realized their mistake. Only when we, by your Grace, have found powerful allies, have they suddenly become overcome with remorse and have offered their assistance freely. I will work with them, of course I will. I would work with the Tsuchikage as well.

 

Fugaku jumps in, face pensive. “Not to put a too fine a point on it, but I may even _prefer_ working with the Tsuchikage. With him, at least, I know where I stand. He despises the Uchiha both generally because we’ve killed a lot of his people, and personally because of Madara. His animus is understandable, even sympathetic from a certain perspective. But the Uchiha have done _nothing_ to the Nara, the Yamanaka or the Akimichi. Or to the village, for that matter. We’ve never harmed them, never sabotaged them, we hardly even interact with them. We defend them in battle, and police the streets they live in. And yet, they attack, unprovoked. An enemy I can predict, I can work with. Whatever vendetta the Nara have with us, I do not understand, and that makes me nervous.“

 

Minato winces, hating his role in this. It would be so much easier to drop it, but he has a chance here, a small window of opportunity in which to fix the broken relationships in his village, and he has to _try_. He allows himself a moment to gather his thoughts, and forges ahead.

“I understand your mistrust and your animosity. I even share most of it - while the village never harmed me personally, it has done my family a great disservice.” He allows some of the rage constantly churning deep inside of him to show on his face, and his chakra flashes, cold as ice.

“This type of conversations aren’t easily had, in a shinobi village. But we are safe here, so let me be frank. _You_ are my family Fugaku. The village in of itself holds no value to me. You do. I - _we_ \- are firmly on your side. The village, the Nara, the Hokage, they are so far down my list of priorities, they’re barely even a _footnote_. However, like it or not, we are where we are, and we are who we are - our options are limited here. We have to work in the framework we have available.

“That being said, let me outline why this situation we have found ourselves in, grew quickly more complicated than it perhaps needed to be. Please, please, bear with my slightly rambling explanation - I will try to lay out all the cards as I see them. Let me finish please, and when I’m done, pick apart my reasoning where you feel I’m wrong.

 

“When the village was founded, the power was administered between the Clans, according to the relative power they commanded at the moment of the founding. So, the four Noble Clans held most sway - Senju, Uchiha, Hyuuga and Aburame, followed by smaller Clans, and civilians held little if any power. The first thing to threaten the balance was the fact that two Senju were chosen to be Hokage, and that the second Hokage was deeply biased against the Uchiha clan presumably because of Madara. The Third was, politically speaking, a _terrible_ choice - or a great one depending on your point of view. Hiruzen is both from the Sarutobi clan, which was a vassal Clan to the Senju for decades, and the favored student of the Second Hokage. So all three Hokage were effectively Senju. That doesn’t speak well for balance.

 

“Since the beginning of the Sarutobi administration, the balance of power shifted _drastically_ , in a relatively small amount of time. The number of civilians grew rapidly, and they demanded more authority. So the Civilian council was formed, whose power is now equal to that of the Shinobi council. So we have the Hokage and his advisors, that form one block. Then we have the civilian council, in the second block, and the Shinobi form the third block. The Shinobi block should, at the very least reflect the balance of power that the village had when it was founded. As we all know, this is not the case. The Uchiha and Aburame are ostracized, the Senju are down to one member, and the Hyuuga waste a lot of their power on keeping the branch house enslaved. So the InoShikaCho, as the only shinobi clan alliance, hold the vast majority of all power available to the Shinobi block.

“Their alliance is larger than the sum of it’s parts, and thus their combined influence is _vast_. The Nara as the accepted ‘genius’ clan, control the dissemination of knowledge and strategy through the village, the Yamanaka control the mental health and thus influence the ‘appropriate’ mindset of the entire shinobi force, and the Akimichi are the only shinobi clan that produced food, which established them as jovial caregivers, instead of a berserker type taijutsu specialists.

 

“Now, I don’t think they are misusing their power, _per se_. But they are very much shinobi. They look after their own interests, and have their own biases, the same as everyone else. Shinobi aren’t ones to cede power, and they will keep their upper hand until the circumstances shift enough to force change.

“What we’re doing now, is bigger than us - we’re a spark that will set of a powder keg. The Uchiha-Uzumaki-Namikaze alliance has already attracted the Aburame and the Hatake, and now the Maito and Morino clans. We’re a movement, that will doubtlessly attract further smaller clans to us, that have until now felt insufficiently represented. Add to that Orochimaru of the Sannin, and suddenly we control the majority of the Shinobi. And Shikaku _knows it_.

“I _know_ this isn’t the goal. I _know_ that the last thing you want or need right now is more influence or political games - you stepped down as Clan leaders just because of that. But the reality of the situation is that even if we don’t do anything with this influence, we threaten the status quo. We threaten the balance that was established partly by accident, partly by design.

“So we need to be smart about this. If we go down the path of retribution, we lose sight of what the goal is here. Itachi has to be our main concern.

“One possible path ahead is to take advantage of our new power, and stamp the InoShikaCho into the ground. If that happens, they will feel cornered and strike back. Of course, we willwin the conflict, but time will be lost, and we can't afford to split our attention.

“But if we are gracious in our victory, if we work with them fairly and show them more grace than they afforded us, then the entire shinobi force is united. And trust me, Shikaku will work with us if we are a better alternative than the government.

“The government and civilian council have little _actual_ power. Their power lies in the fact that we’re fractured, and the clans have different goals. But Konoha was never meant to be a dictatorship, as much as a loose coalition of Clans, and affiliated civilians. The fact that the Hokage styles himself our undisputed leader is pure fiction. And the government overplayed their hand. The balance was always a tentative one - one Clan is pushed down, another rises to supplant them, invariably creating bad blood in the process. We create a web of grievances and grudges, and effectively police ourselves, and the only one that benefits are the civilians and the Hokage.“

 


	12. Eldritch assassin-snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have Orochimaru who is as gorgeous as I can make him out to be.
> 
> "This is why Fugaku isn’t one to entertain strangers. He can't be trusted with normal conversation. He casts a desperate eye to Mikoto, begging her silently to pick up the thread of the conversation before he says something awful like ‘hey so are you actually fully human because the longer I am in your presence when you’re not actively on your guard the more I feel like a mouse hypnotized by a very pretty rattle-snake’."

Fugaku’s head is swimming. His world changed the moment Itachi was diagnosed, but the ripple effect was a thing to behold. He knows, intellectually, he is a relatively powerful figure. But life hasn’t been kind, and he is _painfully_ aware of just how loaded that statement is. Most of the time he has less freedom than just about anyone he knows. He is bound by his loyalties, his friendships, and responsibilities. To imagine he and his family could be the cause of such enormous upheaval in the village is _staggering_.

The situation is already spun far out of their control, and a part of him resents it. Resents that he is now forced to spend even a minuscule part of his attention on Kami damned _politics_ when he has finally decided to focus on his family as he always should have done.

But he knows himself, in the end. Minato and Kushina ostensibly settled all the debts between the various shinobi helping them but he will never be able to just sit on the sidelines, and keep himself from caring. The bonds of gratitude and responsibility are settling slowly but implacably. For all his faults, he is a man that doesn't shy away from his responsibilities.

He already feels somewhat responsible for the Hyūga twins, for example. And Sakumo fucking Hatake who he respected for _years_ , that will now apparently be living with them. The Aburame that face the same discrimination that the Uchiha do, with even less cause. The Uchiha at least had the cross of Madara to bear. Not a _single_ Aburame ever betrayed the village. They were exemplary shinobi, if not the most personable people. Oh, and let’s not forget _Orochimaru of the fucking Sannin_ that is given a wide berth on a good day. The same man that Yuki worships, that is going to be instrumental in saving his son’s life. All these powerful figures he is now indebted to - responsible for - and meanwhile he can’t even go through one goddamn day without breaking down like a child. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and focuses on the soft words of Minato and Kushina discussing some seal or other. Mikoto is fussing over Itachi, and until Orochimaru arrives later in the evening, there is little for him to do apart from meditating and calming his chaotic thoughts. He has been a shinobi for long enough that he knows there is little use in drowning in despair. Not when his People are alive and there for him to take care of.

 

***

 

They are alerted to Orochimaru’s arrival by Yuki, who senses his chakra signature approaching. Kushina goes to meet him at the gate, where the wards end, and Mikoto, Minato, and Fugaku remain where they were sprawled on the cushions. He sweeps into the room without a sound, and greets them all with an all-encompassing bow on the deeper end of polite. The man is the picture of androgynous perfection - all long lines and pale skin, a heavy curtain of inky hair spilling to his waist.

 

There is a heavy air of exhaustion about him, notes Fugaku, never mind the flawless appearance. He probably didn’t take the time to rest after the mission. There is a discrete scent of almonds about him, which if anything is a sign of arrogance - most shinobi strongly avoid any way of tracking them by scent. Orochimaru’s long hair and subtle scent all speak of confidence that he can afford such handicaps. It is arrogant, but it wors. He ’s beautiful in the way of sphinxes, unapologetically inhuman, but dangerously, viciously lovely.

 

Orochimaru drags a non-plussed eye over the Den and appears to be torn between outright amusement and wonder.

He looks over the strewn pillows, non-designated rooms, the multitude of books and scrolls strewn about and looks like he’s miles away

A faintly nostalgic smile on his face, he lowers himself sinuously on one of the bright purple pillows. People, even trained shinobi, just _shouldn’t_ move like that thinks Fugaku, slightly stunned. Orochimaru props his head back on a smaller golden cushion, and _sprawls_ , teetering on the fine edge between hedonistic and decadent.

Fugaku’s composure, never something to write home about, is not helped by the fact that the Sannin unerringly chose a part of the Nest that matches his coloring perfectly - his head rests on a violet cushion trimmed in gold thread, and four gold tassels on corners. It throws Orochimaru’s golden eyes and indigo clan markings into such a sharp contrast that the man is absolutely ethereal in his beauty. All the occupants of the Den are no slouches in the looks department - neither Minato nor Kushina or the Uchiha who are widely accepted as the most beautiful clan in the Elemental Nations. Nevertheless, at that moment, he feels like the rift between beautiful humans and a creature with a place of honor at the Unseelie court is not easily bridged. If at all.

 

Fugaku looks at Minato and Kushina, who seem to be too busy ogling the Sannin to bother with their ditzy personas. Mikoto rises soundlessly and drifts off to make the tea, her movements slightly uncertain. Fugaku is suddenly aware of the fact not a single word was said since Orochimaru joined them. On his end, the man seems grateful for the respite. He doesn’t unclench as much as he uncoils, seemingly perfectly comfortable in the unorthodox home.

 

Mikoto serves the tea, the familiar ceremony helping to settle her, and breaks the strange spell they were apparently caught in. The perfectly brewed Jasmine tea seems to appeal to the Sanin because a spark of delight lights up golden eyes. Long fingers curl around the cup, and a movement from the sidelines catches Fugaku’s attention. He turns just in time to see Minato’s gobsmacked expression as Orochimaru takes a long sip of the tea. Fugaku can't blame him. The tilt of the Sannin’s head as he drinks, the deceptively delicate neck arching infinitesimally as he swallows... Well. Fugaku is a happily married man, but he’s not _blind_.

 

Orochimaru is the first one to break the silence.

“My compliments on the Ward scheme. In different circumstances, I don’t doubt I would have spent days studying them, likely camped at their edges. On an unrelated matter - the design of your home is curious. May I ask, what was the inspiration?”

Minato flicks his eyes towards Kushina and answers slightly uncertainly. “It’s mainly Kushina’s work. I’m not one for interior design, I’m afraid.”

“It reminds me of home,” answers Kushina simply. Her tone is polite but implies further questions wouldn’t be appreciated. A spark of curiosity burns through Fugaku. She must mean Uzushio, but why would that interest the Sannin? The Orochi clan was a nomadic one, but Fugaku wasn’t aware they were close to the Uzumaki. Every shinobi village is _somewhat_ isolationist, but the Uzumaki took that view to the extreme - foreigners were rarely allowed inside the village proper. The closest Fugaku himself came was to the civilian capital on the other side of the island.

The Sannin pauses for a couple of long moments, deep in thought.“How curious. Were you perhaps close to Uzumaki Aisa?“

Kushina seems as surprised as he ever saw her. With wide eyes, she leans forward slightly

“She was my calligraphy teacher. I spent half of my childhood at her house.”

With a melancholy tilt to his smile, Orochimaru dips his head slightly.

“Aisa was a very close friend with my mother and a frequent visitor to our clan. I didn’t know she decorated her house in the Orochi-style. Forgive me my sentimentality, but it was a long time since I was a guest in a proper Den.

Kushina’s eyes are sad when she replies. “I didn’t know. It was a curiosity when I was young, and by the time I was old enough to ask - well.”

Orochimaru seems pensive. “Indeed, Uzumaki-hime. Much was lost.”

A heavy silence falls on the group, as each of them seem to become lost in thought.

Fugaku is desperately uncomfortable. They are all orphans here, as most adult shinobi are, butKushina and Orochimaru are both last known members of their clans. Upon further thought, the fact that they share this connection is surprising, but not unthinkable. The Uzumaki and Orochi clans are both similar in their academic-bent, even if the Uzumaki specialized in seals and the Orochi specialized ostensibly in Poisons, but were actually pioneers in all branches of science, barring medicine. As a nomadic Clan, the Orochi would have traded extensively with the Uzumaki, mostly for seals as means of protection during their travels. Since the isolationist policies of the Uzumaki didn’t allow foreigners much entrance to the island, the trading would have been done at Orochi grounds, or something along those lines.

He casts a curious eye around the Den. Now that he knows what to look for, he _does_ see a distinct, unusual flair to the decorations. While he can't claim to be an expert in Uzumaki aesthetic, he did spend weeks visiting their civilian capital, and none of what he saw there matches the Den. Uzumaki favored bright white stone walls, with high ceilings and seals carved into every surface. Since the town was constrained by the amount of available space, it expanded vertically, and the buildings climbed higher and higher. It helped that they had seals available to guarantee the stability and durability of the structures, which in turn boasted impossibly thin walls, and an unprecedented amount of architectural freedoms. It was a matter of _enormous_ cultural significance for the Uzumaki to only ever use white stone, and never any other color or material. The sun setting on the island painted the town an otherworldly shade of red, unofficially dubbed an Uzumaki Red, and the effect played a great part in a myriad of religious rites and practices. To that end, it was a true rarity to see any other color but white while in the city, and a similar trend carried to some extent inside the houses themselves -from what little Fugaku witnessed. The Den, in sharp contrast, was all sprawling spaces and soft cushions in exotic colors strewn about on every available surface. Not a patch of white was visible that Fugaku could recall - and maybe that’s the point? Maybe Kushina wanted to remember her home but didn’t want to fail at imitating something irreplaceable.

Not to mention Kushina might not appreciate too blunt a reminder of Uzushio. After all, someone had to bury her clansmen, the tens of thousands of people slaughtered and left to rot in the streets, and only Kushina had the necessary bloodline to pass the barrier. Kushina and whoever she decides to bring. Not for the first time he is grateful not to have the chakra for the mass Shadow Clone technique. It was certainly a powerful tool, immensely so in the hands of an Uzumaki Jinchūriki, but the cost was something he was _desperately_ glad not to have been asked to pay. Kushina had to have buried her entire village with her own two hands - tens of thousands of pairs of her own hands. And tens of thousands of sets of memories to go with them. He shudders.

He can't have spent more than a minute thinking about this, but it feels like hours have gone by. He understands now why the topic of Uzushio is avoided in such a wide berth. It’s just so _unbearably_ sad, and it plays on his own personal fears too well.

Desperately he grasps for a topic, anything that has nothing to do with slaughtered villages, and betrayed alliances. Which, depressingly, isn’t as easy as it should be. _Fucking hell_.

“So, Orochimaru-sama, are all the serpents you summon eldritch assassin-snakes or is Yuki just special.” _Well_ , that was fucking stupid. Nothing for it, however. He looks expectantly at the Snake Sannin as if that was a perfectly reasonable thing to say.

Golden eyes snap his eyes to him, which is a massive improvement from the lost, unseeing gaze of before, and the man blinks slowly. He tilts his head and very obviously tries to think of something to say. Finally, he settles on “I beg your pardon?” He appears to be closer to genuinely confused than scandalized, which Fugaku _absolutely_ counts as a win. Yuki, who is still wrapped around his neck, lets out a peal of snakey-laughter which still has a distinct bell-like feel to it. Sweet Amaterasu.

He’s in for it now, so he babbles. “Well, you see, while Yuki is a companion without compare, to be sure, I couldn't help but notice, she doesn’t appear to have a Chakra signature. Which, fine, I wouldn’t bother mentioning it, if it didn’t come with the unexpected bonus the ability to just ignore Wards. Our resident Seal masters looked quite apoplectic when we figured that out, so I was just curious if that was a trait all your Summons share.”

Orochimaru looks _incredibly_ entertained. “Eldritch assassin-snake was it. How wonderfully descriptive. And no, Yuki is quite special in that regard. Most summons have unusual abilities, but hers, unfortunately, isn’t appreciated by her brethren. That is why she spends most of her time on this plane, instead of the Ryuuchi cave.”

Fugaku can't help but bristle protectively. “Well, she is _very much_ appreciated by us in the Den. Her abilities are _wonderful_ , and not only because she employs them so readily in defense of my son. She will be no less welcome after her task is done.”

Orochimaru is giving him a weird look, and he knows that his opinions mean little to the Sannin, but. Yuki seemed so young to him. Too young to feel like she doesn’t have a home in the Summoning realm. Maybe the snakes don’t feel like humans do, and maybe the connotations aren’t quite as damning as he’s making them out to be - but. From what he has gotten to know of Yuki, she feels just as much as humans would. She is a fiery little thing, if shy, and loves to joke and her laugh somehow sounds like bells and damn it all, he’s too old to be adopting snakes.

Nevertheless, he focuses slightly, and pulses his chakra in a specific way, using a technique invented by shinobi parents, to soothe their infants. The soothing infants part isn’t all that viable here, but Yuki absolutely adores the additional warmth the technique produces, as well as the rhythmic pulses of chakra. Indeed the snakeling melts into a noodle around his neck and her pleased hisses fill the room.

Fugaku just _knows_ he will be mocked for this, for pampering her, and who knows, the Sannin might even be offended, But he would be a poor host indeed if he were to repay Yuki’s kindness with anything but loyalty.

Orochimaru _doesn’t_ , in fact, mock him or Yuki. The Sannin’s gaze is inscrutable, and he just hums a vague acknowledgment of Fugaku’s general existence. Fugaku slides his eyes to Mikoto, who is looking at them with a soft slant to her smile, eyes crinkling. Kushina and Minato seem to be - approving. No surprises there - Kushina has much in common with Yuki, and he loves Kushina in exactly the same way as he is beginning to love Yuki. Both of them were taken from home too young, and were burdened with powers too strange, and are desperately loyal to their chosen people.

This is why Fugaku isn’t one to entertain strangers. He _can't be trusted_ with normal conversation. He casts a desperate eye to Mikoto, begging her silently to pick up the thread of the conversation before he says something awful like ‘hey so are you actually _fully_ human because the longer I am in your presence when you’re not actively on your guard the more I feel like a mouse hypnotized by a very pretty rattle-snake’.

She looks at him with distinct pity for his non-existent people skills but obliges gamely enough. “I hope your mission was successful Orochimaru-sama. Would you care for some further refreshments? While none of us here are even approaching passable in the kitchen, we do have two seal-masters and thus _quite_ a diverse selection of food under stasis-seals.”

“Thank you, but no. Tea is much appreciated, however.” He appears to be perfectly comfortable, but Kushina’s eyes sharpen nonetheless. Casually, she rises, ostensibly to fetch more tea, and snags a nearby scroll and brush. Mikoto and Orochimaru are exchanging polite small-talk with Fugaku and Minato as their silent audience when she returns a couple of minutes later. She carries a hellishly strong brew of black tea she is partial to, and a casually perfect heating seal, similar to one designed for Yuki. With a careless flex of chakra, the temperature in the room rises a couple of degrees. Orochimaru gazes at her sharply, but her answering smile is flawlessly guileless His huff is implied rather than intoned, but he doesn’t comment on the thoughtful action. Fugaku makes a note to himself to start wearing lighter clothing around the house if they’re going to be entertaining serpentine guests. Yuki is one thing because she gets her dose of warmth from his skin. He _very much_ doubts Orochimaru would be as happy as she is with a similar arrangement.

A couple of minutes pass, and Orochimaru seemingly becomes fed up with the niceties.

“Uchiha-sama, I would be grateful if we could cut to the chase, as it were. The hour grows late, and from what I understood from Uzumaki-hime, time is not our friend. Yuki can provide the report, but I find myself hesitant of asking that of her. I have no doubt that she would, but she appears to hold you in high regard. I am reluctant to make her feel as if she’s betraying her new allies’ confidence.“

A wide, uninhibited smile spreads on Minato’s face. “You are _kind_ , Orochimaru-sama. How refreshing. But in regards to your request, I will be more than happy to outline where we are.

“As you know, Kushina and I took it upon ourselves to organize the logistics of the meeting. Some people approached us, some we approached ourselves, but honestly, we only really needed your assistance. Every person present at the meeting has offered their services, more or less freely.Aburame-sama and Morino-sama offered freely, Maito Dai asked us to save Sakumo Hatake, which would be insulting if we weren’t such monumental idiots that weren’t even aware of his situation. InoShikaCho, well. The situation there is delicate enough that I would consider them neutral entities rather than allies. The Hyuuga twins are on our side as well, but I can’t really disclose any details of that particular negotiation.”

Orochimaru raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Right. I’m sure the mystery of what the Hyuuga could want from an Uzumaki Fūinjutsu master will be one for the ages.

Minato looks at him, unapologetically deadpan. “I’m afraid I don't know what you mean Orochimaru-sama.“

“I’m sure you don’t,” replies the snake Sannin, his tone desert-dry. “However, there might have been a misunderstanding here. The motivations and benefits of people at the meeting are in no way confusing to me. I might be missing some details, but the overall picture is sufficiently clear. What I’m missing is the cause of all this. Uzumaki-hime has provided a laughably small amount of information regarding this matter - basically that little Itachi-san is dying of chakra exhaustion due to his brain developing too quickly - and then proceeded to bribe me so thoroughly that it was almost counterproductive. For future reference, offering a shinobi something for which he would cheerfully raze Kumo to the ground, for the price of one sick infant, is incredibly suspicious.

Fugaku can't help but stiffen slightly. He forces his muscles to unclench slowly and very deliberately doesn’t cast a wary eye over the Sanin. “Well,” he tries for levity, and falls pathetically short, ”she wasn’t wrong.”

Mikoto throws a reproachful glance at him, which, fair. She continues smoothly. “But we will certainly elaborate. From what I understand, the trouble started with Itachi being born with a fully matured Sharingan. It was previously assumed that reaching a certain level of mental maturity was necessary for an Uchiha to activate their Sharingan, and therefore it tended to activate after puberty, or in extraordinary cases during puberty. Itachi being born with an activated Sharingan, and a fully matured one on top of that completely disproves the majority of our current theories about our bloodline limit.

“We can discuss this further of course, but from what I can tell, there are two possibilities we have available to us. Option one is that Itachi is such an anomaly that the knowledge that we do have simply does not apply to him. Option two is that all of our knowledge is simply wrong. Either way, I am afraid most of the Uchiha historical knowledge will be useless in this endeavor.”

Orochimaru’s eyes gleam with scientific interest. In any other situation Fugaku would find the sight captivating but in these circumstances, he can't help but be unsettled.

“Before we continue, we must set some ground rules, I think. For this to work you must disclose any and all information regarding this case. Information you would doubtlessly be uncomfortable with sharing with an outsider and a veritable stranger, Uzumaki-hime’s bribes aside. Word of a Shinobi isn’t worth much, especially an amoral creature such as myself.”

Minato cuts his eyes to him sharply. “Orochimaru-sama, I think you are laboring under a misconception that we are in _any way_ unaware of your nature, as you so tactfully put it. We are perfectly aware who and what you are, and I can assure you, you’re in good company. Or do you think any of us here good people?”

A perfectly sculpted brow rises, and a sardonic smile plays with Orochimaru’s lips.

“This from Konoha’s Golden child, the unofficial successor of the Hokage and a student of Jiraiya the Gallant? I believe you and Uzumaki-hime are as close towKonohan royalty as it comes. Not to mention the Clan head of the Uchiha Clan, maligned as they might be.”

Minato’s eyes gleam, cat-like. “Would that be the man that slaughtered hundreds of shinobi in less than a minute around a week ago? There were Genin in that platoon, Orochimaru-sama. If you are looking for the monster in our midst, you don’t have to look further than myself.Or would that be the woman keeping the wealth and resources of Uzu out of the reach of Konoha, and thus having a stranglehold on Konoha economy?”

He leans forward, intent. “ _Or_ would those be the people who would cheerfully slaughter their way through this village, if we thought that would bring us one step closer to a cure.

“No, Orochimaru-sama, it seems to me, whatever else we might be, being in any way moral is not something we _could_ claim, nor would we _want_ to. We are killers and mercenaries, loyal to our own. Nothing less and nothing more.”

Orochimaru is completely blank, but there is an interested glint in the eerie eyes. “And yet, my original question remains unanswered.”

Minato relaxes slightly, the sharp focus of before somewhat softened. “Not to my mind. We are perfectly aware we need you, and not the other way around. As such, the only thing we need to do is to make sure you have sufficient reason to stay on _our_ side. Were you anyone else, we could try to bind you with contracts, design blood seals to protect our secrets. Yet, in this case, that would only urge you to betray us as soon as you can devise a way to break your binds. And I have _little_ doubt you would.

“So, Orochimaru-sama, the only way forward is to inspire loyalty in you and behave in such a way that you have little reason to go.

“Oh? And what makes you think I have any loyalty for you to win? I am aware of what the consensus is regarding my mental makeup. “

Kushina snorts. “Yes, the consensus of the village that glorifies Minato as a paragon of virtue, while ostracizing the most loyal fucking man in the Land of Fire to the point of suicide. I can't even tell you how valuable I find their opinions to be. As for us, as far as I can tell you’ve never betrayed anyone who didn’t betray you first. We’re not _stupid_. We know who we chose to be our main ally in this.

Fugaku feels distinctly like this conversation escaped from him. “I find myself confused, Orochimaru-sama, as to what exactly we are discussing here. Mikoto and I would put our son’s life quite literally in your hands. I don’t see how you would think we would value clan secrets above that.”

“You - would?” It’s Orochimaru’s time to look surprised.

Fugaku can't help the look of incomprehension that crossed his face. “Isn’t that what we’re discussing this entire time?”

“Well, _yes_ , broadly speaking. I just assumed I wouldn’t be allowed any direct involvement with your son. I thought my role would be to provide a theoretical solution that you would implement at your own discretion.”

Mikoto’s lips curl in a sad smile. Without a word, she rises, picks up the unconscious infant, and dumps him in the frozen Sannin’s arms. “I can't say I trust you, personally, Orochimaru-sama, as I do not know you. But I trust Minato and Kushina, and they obviously hold you in high regard. More to the point, I am painfully aware that without you, Itachi’s chances are slim. Those two things make you one of the four people alive that I will willingly hand my son to. The fact of the matter is, you are currently more important figure in Itachi’s life than Fugaku or I. “

“Mikoto,” whispers Minato, a clear undertone of fear in his voice, “don’t say that. You’re his _parents_ , there is _nobody_ more important than you.”

“And yet, we can’t keep him alive,” smiles Fugaku wistfully. “We wouldn’t even know how to _try_.”

Orochimaru sits, frozen, looking at Itachi’s face, screwed up in pain even in sleep. In a far away voice, he whispers, as if not to disturb the child in his arms: “Do you know, I’ve never held an infant. Not even Sensei trusted me enough to let me near little Asuma-kun. “ His voice is perfectly even, without a hint of vulnerability, but every muscle in his body is tense, and Fugaku is struck with the thought that something important just happened.

Kushina is looking at the Sanin with a sharp glint in her eyes, and a small, pleased smile. “I think it’s safe to say that I take great pleasure in being _nothing_ like our dear Hokage.”

 

A startled bark of laughter escapes Orochimaru, who immediately blanks his features. “How very interesting this conversation has been.”

 


	13. looking inward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there's some more introspection. And some background. I swear, some plot is happening. i just get sidetracked by how wonderfully fucked up everyone is, and then yeah. Sorry.

*** Fugaku’s POV

-

Fatigue is weighing Fugaku down slowly but surely. Once the frankly exhausting conversation of before, they wordlessly decided to keep the remainder of the evening light. Currently, Minato is entertaining Mikoto by being exceptionally ditzy and throwing Kushina into paroxysms of laughter. On his end, Fugaku is captivated by the frankly _bizarre_ image of his son dozing off in the hands of the most dangerous Shinobi he is ever likely to meet. On an aesthetic level, the image they make is as captivating as it is - not _disturbing_ , but perhaps ambiguous? His son is, objectively speaking, a beautiful child. His emaciation doesn’t take away from that, as much as it casts him in a tragic light. Orochimaru’s androgynous features, however, are transformed with the addition of an infant. He looks more feminine in a way, sharp lines of his face somehow softer. The yukata he wears is in no way indicative of his gender, so from the point of view of an outsider, he could just as easily be the mother as the father.

Fugaku is amazed both by the visually appealing image they make and by his own lack of discomfort. He is _very_ far from a trusting man, and yet the prickles of unease are miraculously absent. Couple that with the fact that the thought of some of his own clan members - his _family_ \- doing the same would be at best alarming.

With the not inconsiderable amount of effort, he casts his thoughts aside from the dark turn they have taken and focuses instead on appreciating the aesthetics in front of him.

 

He is startled out of his reverie by an enormous yawn from Kushina just on this side of theatrical. He’s pretty sure it’s for their benefit — the chance of this particular Uzumaki being tired from anything less than a couple of weeks spent on the frontlines is frankly laughable. It’s surprisingly subtle from her, he must admit. She hasn’t bothered with subtlety with them in quite a few years, so this foray into sensitivity must be aimed at Orochimaru. He forces himself to look at the man with a more analytical eye and realizes immediately what caught her attention. The Sannin is getting visibly tired, which _absolutely_ means that he is on the brink of exhaustion. _Still_ \- this meeting is entirely for their benefit, and there is nothing in him that will let him be the one to suggest they rest.

Minato is quick on the uptake and rises fluidly.

“Well, this was a singularly interesting evening - my life seems to be full of them recently. Nevertheless, it’s getting late, and some of us - frankly _every single one of us_ \- need their rest. Orochimaru-sama, you are more than welcome to a guest room, if you would prefer?

The Sanin does not scoff, but it's a near thing.

“I’m sure I will manage the trip home. In the interest of expediency, I suggest a follow-up meeting first thing in the morning. I’m afraid my time is somewhat limited, what with the war.”

“Of course,” Mikoto is quick to answer, a grateful smile on her face. She rises, and carefully extracts Itachi from him. Orochimaru relinquishes him easily, but his polite smile twists into something wistful before his expression blanks once again.

Fugaku rises himself, to see the Sannin out. They’re exchanging routine pleasantries when Yuki unfurls from his neck. To his considerable credit, he manages not to jerk - the snakeling has been so quiet most of the evening, he has completely forgotten she is there.

“Should I accompany you, Orochimaru-sama?”

He is startled by just how ill at ease he is by the idea of Yuki leaving him - _them_. She’s only been present for a short while, but her youthful charm and innocence have been a balm on his soul. Still - she’s not his partner, and he has absolutely no claim on her. He steels himself and makes a note to come up with an at least _passably_ credible reason he could use to wheedle the Sanin into summoning her again.

His dismay wasn’t as subtle as he thought, apparently, because when he meets Orochimaru’s eye, a faint approving smile is on his lips. A small hope blooms, even as he feels a blush forming.

“Do you want to leave, Yuki?” Asks Orochimaru, speaking directly to the snake.

“Not at allOrochimaru-sama. It’s just - my task is done?”

“Well,” he says in, what Fugaku thinks is a very reasonable tone, “your primary task was to guard the Uchiha.That task, I am starting to learn, is _far_ more complicated than it appears to be. As such, only an exemplary snake such as yourself might have a chance of managing it. So - would you like to continue?”

The snake wiggles in delight. “Oh, _very_ much so! Everyone here is _ever_ so interesting, and the chakra in the compound is potent enough that I can absorb it easily. I won’t be a drain on your chakra reserves, I promise!”

Orochimaru smiles indulgently and drags a long finger over her scales.

“As long as you’re comfortable, snakelet.”

It’s a small thing, but the kindnesses are compounding. The image of the genius sociopath is - not _destroyed_ but impossibly altered. The vicious edge is still there, of course. It’s a part of the man -the part that he shows to the world. But. For whatever reason, Orochimaru is allowing him to see other, softer sides. Fugaku doesn’t know what that means - if it, in fact, means anything at all. But he is definitely more certain that Minato and Kushina chose well.

 

*** Minato's POV

 

Mikoto and Fugaku are sleeping, Kushina is working on compiling the promised seals for Orochimaru, and Minato finally has a moment to _breathe_. A short scribbled note for Kushina later, he sits down on the roof of the compound and settles for a meditating session. The events of the last couple of days have changed him drastically, and he can't help but be both unsettled and thrilled. Changes never came easily to him, and yet it feels like it took only a week to upend his entire _life_. There are things he needs to be doing right now - urgent, important things - but the last thing he needs right now is a mental breakdown.

A deep breath. Another. Meditation comes as easy as breathing, and he slips into a trance in no more than a handful of seconds.

He can’t lie to himself - Minato is _excited_. Not to the exclusion of everything else, of course - but it’s definitely a pleasant change from the vicious rage. His life has never been dull, certainly not. But he has, on some level, always been content to play by the rules. He played the game and played it viciously, but the events of the last couple of days have shattered any such notions. Playing the game almost killed his son - _godson_ \- and would have driven his family to - _well_. Best not dwell on it. Nevertheless, the ball is rolling, and they just had a surprisingly pleasant evening with Orochimaru of the fucking Sannin.

Orochimaru. Goddamn _Orochimaru_. His sensei’s teammate has been a part of his life since his genin days, and even then the man has captured his attention like few others ever have. However, their relationship has always been colored by that of the two Sannin.

With an internal sigh, Minato resigns himself to working through his jumbled emotions before they start becoming an issue. Regrettably, that requires thinking about _Jiraiya_ \- all of the Sannin, really, and that’s something he’s been happy to avoid doing whenever possible.

Minato’s relationship with the Sanin is and always has been - _difficult_. Amusement flickers weakly at describing the seething ball of resentment, anger, and shame ever present in the back of his mind as _difficult_.

Jiraiya. His sensei. His friend. His first - and only - father-figure. What a joke.

Minato graduated young. Too young, perhaps. His competence was undeniable, as were the various mental problems if anybody cared to look. Which nobody did - until Jiraiya.

When he whisked him away less than a week after graduation from the Academy, Minato was over the moon. For a year and a half, the two traipsed over the continent, getting into absurd adventures, and Minato slowly but surely started worshiping the older man. Being the sole focus of an adult was a godsend to the attention-starved boy.

 

Minato was and is an intense person. When he loves someone, he does so with everything he is. Which perhaps explains how everything went to hell so impressively a couple of years into the Second Shinobi War, when his pseudo-father figure just - _left_. Left Konoha. Left _Minato_.

Not even being the student of the Hokage would have saved the Toad Sage from being labeled a missing-nin, if not for the convenient fact Konoha couldn’t afford to advertise the loss of one of the Sannin. Not that Minato _knew_ , at the time. The only thing he knew was that one day his sensei’s team returned without him, and nobody would tell him what happened. He summoned his courage to ask Orochimaru eventually, and the man coldly informed him Jiraiya left to teach some _children in Ame_. The less said about those three years the better. Trust never came easy to orphans, genius ones even less so. To be abandoned by someone he loved with his whole being was - difficult. Very, _very_ difficult.

The final nail in that particular coffin was the moment when Jiraiya breezed in the village, an enormous grin pulling his lips - the _same fucking smile_ Minato was warmed by for _years_ \- expecting everything to remain as he left it. Minato _didn’t_ greet by slitting his throat, but it was a close thing. Instead, he smiled his most polite smile but let the seething disdain show in the ice of his eyes.

Minato knew Jiraiya was devastated by the dismissal but he couldn’t - didn't _want to_ \- care even the slightest bit. Every orphan shares the same deep-set fear of abandonment, which Jiraiya knew very well, being an orphan himself. Noble intentions aside, the man abandoned both Minato, and perhaps more importantly, _his teammate_ , never once checking in with them,to chase - what? Absolution? Some nebulous child of prophecy? Either way, Minato had little use of him when he returned, and the same holds true now. As far as he is concerned, Jiraiya fucked him up so impressively that it almost _had_ to be intentional. He never once sent a message, not through regular means, or through the summons they shared. It would have been _laughably_ easy for the Sanin to set him at ease, but apparently, Minato didn’t warrant so much as a stray thought.

 

Almost dispassionately Minato realizes his muscles are trembling with rage, and his Chakra is damaging the roof with how strongly is lashing around him. Alright, so it seems that the issue of Jiraiya should be shelved for now, before he brings the goddamn house down. Kami.

Firmly, he yanks his Chakra back and breathes. Focuses. Calms.

 

Tsunade and Orochimaru, in their own way, played equally important roles in his life - in an admittedly less mind-shattering manner. He identified with them, on a very personal level.

In Tsunade, he saw what would happen to him if he were to lose all of his loved ones. The Senju princess drew her enormous strength directly from her love - and without her family, she crumbled. While she was condemned for abandoning her village and her teammates, Minato admired her if anything, for keeping her anger contained, and imploding instead. He knew, if the same were to happen to him, the world would learn to fear his rage. He half-heartedly hoped he would be put down quickly and efficiently before he could cause too much damage, but that was the extent of it.

 

And then there is Orochimaru. Deadly, inhuman, _fascinating_ Orochimaru.

The first time he met his Sensei’s mysterious second teammate was after he returned from his training trip. Everybody in Konoha knew of the Senju princess, - the overwhelmingly beautiful and temperamental healer. Jiraiya’s second teammate was equally well-known but was talked about in whispered tones. The genius orphan, last scion of the Orochi clan, favorite student of the Hokage - the man was very elusive for someone with so many monikers.

Ten-year-old Minato was dazzled when he ‘met’ the Snake Summoner. He remembers the event very clearly, even if he didn’t garner as much as a glance from the other man.

Minato was, unsurprisingly, not a very well adjusted child. Among his very many complexes, was visceral hate to the label genius. It was whispered around him when he graduated at the top of his class, against all expectations. When he returned to the village, it was even worse. It was not every day one of the Hokage’s students takes interest in a nameless orphan, never mind his impressive grades in the Academy. Then he left for a year and a half, came back with a field promotion, and started his specialization in the most esoteric Shinobi discipline - Fūinjutsu. Reintegrating to the village would have been difficult for him, after a long and straining training trip, but his reception was the opposite of what the ten-year-old needed. He would bristle internally every time someone just threw out the term, after a few minutes of having met him. He _hated_ the label, hated it implied things come in any way easy to him - as if he didn’t earn _every goddamn scrap_ of his skill. He felt all the never-ending days of training, the sleepless nights spent perfecting his katas, making sure every muscle behaved exactly how he wanted it to, they were all somehow denied. Which is all to say, by the time he met his sensei’s team, he was a little ball of rage.

Then he met Orochimaru, an undisputed genius, who radiated confidence in himself, and a complete disregard to outside opinion. It might seem obvious, but it was as if something just snapped, and Minato found his rage has turned into disregard. While he didn’t try to, or in fact want to, emulate the older man, he was nevertheless grateful.

And then - and then - and then _Jiraiya fucking left_. Left them both. He doesn’t remember much about the ensuing mental breakdown, and the bleak months that followed, except Kushina’s steady presence and _Orochimaru_. Orochimaru, who went on, who functioned, who continued living his life in the exact same way. As if he wasn’t abandoned by his teammates and trapped in a village that feared him. Minato might have been a tad obsessed over him for a while there. Following him was out of the question, as no Chūnin no matter how talented could ever hope to follow Orochimaru when he didn’t want to be followed. But more importantly, Minato knew his presence hurt the other man. Minato represented a constant reminder of Jiraiya, and the last thing that Minato wanted was to remind anyone of being abandoned. So he contented himself with staring from afar, studying Orochimaru’s nonchalance, how the only reactions to the heartbreak Minato _knew_ was there, were slightly narrowed eyes and tightening of the shoulders. How he seamlessly transitioned to solo missions and adapted his fighting style to match. When, at the time, Kushina was the only reason Minato didn’t abandon the village to go and find Jiraiya. Whether to rip him apart, or beg him to take him back, he didn’t know - either one was likely.

He pieced himself together eventually and emerged stronger for it, but his weird _thing_ for Orochimaru remained - muted but present. Luckily, nobody remarked on his weird behavior, the War being more attention-grabbing than a quietly unhinged teenager. Well, nobody except for _Kushina_ , of course, that was there every step of the way and who knows exactly how hilarious it was that everybody thinks that Minato’s strictly professional attitude with Orochimaru prior to now was due to his dislike of the man.

And now they’re going to work together. For _months_.

Kushina suggested it, the moment they were told about Itachi. She never approved of Minato staying away from Orochimaru, but in the end, allowed it was his choice. Now, however, Itachi’s life is on the line, and Minato absolutely has to get his shit together.

His usual routine of blending professional and ditzy won’t cut it anymore. The only reason it worked so far was that Orochimaru didn’t care enough to pay anything more than peripheral attention to him. The only problem is - Minato doesn’t himself know what his Thing for the Sannin _is_. He knows he feels strongly about the man, but his feelings are - undefined?

One definite consequence is that he trusts him much more easily than he would anyone else. The man was in their house, holding his son - _godson_ , Minato, for fuck’s sake. Holding Itachi. Mikoto and Fugaku trust him because Minato does, and because they’re so far beyond desperate it’s tragic. Kushina likes him, partly because they’re both last of their Clans, but mostly because of Minato. And she knows she is not a threat to him. The only thing Orochimaru wants is knowledge, and that is something she is more than willing to share. Kushina isn’t hoarding her Clan’s heritage for anything other than spite towards Konoha, for starting the war that destroyed Uzushio.

Okay, so he is compromised - but _so what_? So he feels strongly about Orochimaru. As long as he stays honest with the man, and doesn’t try anything stupid, everything will be _fine_. For fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even know what he would _want_ to do. It’s equally as likely he would want Orochimaru to be his friend, his mentor, his father, or his lover. So. The plan is - relax? It seems so. Relax, and be careful with the man that’s going to save Itachi’s life. Easy.

Minato is _fucked_.

 

 


	14. just some light conversation over tea

Kushina’s POV

 

Breakfast - in the form of a decent-sized mountain of Uzu pastries - sees the unorthodox family in different stages of alertness, as they’re getting ready for the day. A couple of days of rest and good food have done wonders for Fugaku and Mikoto, and they’re on the way to recovering from their ordeal. Itachi is asleep, and Mikoto is dripping formula down the unconscious infant’s throat. It’s tragic of course, but all the occupants are used to the sight - that’s how the majority of Itachi’s meals have gone. The infant is awake less often and stays so for ever-shortening amounts of time - which everyone is very determinedly not thinking about right now. Kushina is nursing an enormous cup of black tea and is for once quietly sitting, eyes roaming over her uncharacteristically frazzled partner. Minato’s blue eyes are even more prominent, accentuated by dark circles, and his normally graceful movements have a distinct, jittery edge to them. He is jittery - not blatantly so, of course, shinobi of his caliber aren’t overtly anything if they don’t want to be. To Kushina, however, he has been an open book for years. She’d be worried, but she knows Minato can compartmentalize with the best of them. He won’t let this - whatever it is - get in the way of their work. 

Still - there’s no point in torturing him. The Sannin is set to arrive soon, and it’s in everyone’s best interest if the blonde is passingly coherent. The solution is, as it most often is, Fūinjutsu. 

“So, pretty boy. Did you make any headway on the conversion matrix you’ve been working on?” 

Slightly wild blue eyes snap to hers, and a grateful look enters them. He knows what she’s doing, of course, and is happy to be diverted. Success. 

“Oh, yes, actually…” He trails off, and bounds up, narrowly avoiding the edge of the table. If he spilled the tea on her food, she’d spill his blood right back. 

A moment later, he’s back with arms full of scrolls. He sits down and continues smoothly. 

“… I had an idea, that we absolutely should consider because it could be perfect. The process? Practice? Discipline? Whatever - in Senjutsu, right, you’d be basically absorbing Nature chakra, converting it into a form we humans could manipulate, and then channeling it. Could we somehow adapt that process? There’s basically no literature on this, so it’s speculation at this point, but I think it could be useful. I guess it’s comparable to how patients absorb and convert chakra during Chakra transferring procedures, only on a much larger scale.” 

Kushina can't help but become interested. 

“To be completely honest with you - I have no idea. The Uzumaki never really developed in that direction - we didn’t even have more than a handful of summoning contracts. And Senjutsu techniques are famously rare - I wouldn't even know who to ask. Well. I wouldn't know who to ask, that I wouldn't first skin alive.”

She vaguely regrets her words - one doesn’t bring Jiraiya up in polite conversation after all - but they never had the type of relationship where they had to be careful with one another. She’s not about to start now. 

“However, you bring up something interesting. Don’t Jinchūriki operate on a similar principle? Absorbing - converting - channeling foreign Chakra?” 

Minato, who stiffened at the mention of the Toad Sannin, eases back into seal-talk. 

“Yes and no, I think. From what I understand, when a Bijū is sealed into a person, their Chakra system changes - adapts. That’s generally why most of the human sacrifices are children. The younger they are, the better they can adapt, and more effectively they can channel the Bijū’s chakra. Again, this is mostly speculation, but I can’t imagine a child becoming a Sage - and it’s impossible for grownups to become stable Jinchūriki. So I’d wager that the Senjutsu process itself includes a conversion aspect, while the channeling of the Bijū chakra doesn't - hence the need for the Jinchūriki’s system to adapt.” 

She nods, mind whirling. “Hmm, good point. Well, we don’t have time now, but I would like to spend some time in the future studying this. Not to mention, you bring up some interesting side applications for our future Tachi-seal.”

Minato laughs, delighted. “Tachi-seal?” 

She shrugs. “Well, we have to call it something. And ‘A-system-of-seals-designed-to-absorb-convert-and-inject-foreign-chakra-into-the-patient’s-system-without-placing-additional-strain-on-them-for-the-purpose-of-healing-chronic-chakra-exhaustion’ is a bit of a mouthful. ‘Koto, back me up here.” 

Mikoto looks up from her sleeping son’s face and nods. “I agree with Kushina. Because of reasons. Also, ramen.”

 Kushina loves this woman. “See! ‘Koto understands my genius!”

 

Fugaku snorts, having apparently finished his wholehearted attempt at drinking his body-weight in coffee. “That, if nothing else, has always been true.” Yuki, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, nods smartly in agreement from her customary spot on his shoulders. 

Kushina can’t remember when Fugaku was this open, free to smile and tease. He hadn’t had an easy life, and for all that she hates the circumstances, she’s grateful he’s finally becoming free - both him and Mikoto. They’re a power to be reckoned with, always have been, but they were content to keep their claws sheathed, and stay within the boundaries of the roles they were born into. Do their duty, as they told her so often. Well. It seems that time is well and truly over. 

 

She rises fluidly and feels her bones pop as she stretches. “Well, I have some work to do, but you should relax while you still can - Orochimaru-sama is due to arrive soon.” She needs to finish compiling the seals for the man, and oh, what an interesting situation this has turned out to be. The Sannin is very different from what she was expecting. Granted, he has no idea how to treat people who admire him, and they’re being entirely too transparent which would make any shinobi suspicious. But - the man is much more emotional than she expected him to be. He reminds her of Mikoto actually - they share that sharp distinction between the people they care about and the people they could apathetically watch as they burn alive, with little gray area in between. Interesting, in any case. And way more helpful than what she was hoping for. For that alone, she will replace some of the rather basic seals she was planning to offer him, with some considerably more interesting ones. 

All too easily, Fūinjutsu steals all of her attention, and after what feels like a couple of minutes, an hour went by, and she has a rather respectable collection of seals, even by Uzumaki standards. 

She makes her way downstairs and is greeted by a rather amusing scene. Mikoto and Fugaku are seated on a writing desk, working on what seems to be some sort of report, muttering quietly among each other. They are probably writing down the information about the Uchiha Clan they discusses yesterday. Yuki is coiled in Itachi’s crib, the two little ones peacefully dozing in a corner kept quiet by a silencing seal. Which leaves Minato with Orochimaru, which is just adorable to watch. 

For what it’s worth, Minato is trying, bless his little under-socialized heart. Without his typical masks to fall back on, he’s engaging the Sannin in small-talk with grim determination. On his end, Orochimaru is staring at him in morbid amazement, gamely replying to the barked pleasantries. The look of sheer relief Minato gives her when she plops herself next to him is a thing of beauty, and she pats him on the arm with only as much condescension as he deserves. He huffs at her, opens his mouth to retort, remembers who he’s sitting next to and snaps it shut with an audible click. She pats him condescendingly again, and this time, his huff is one of acceptance. 

She turns to Orochimaru, who is staring at them like he’s about to start jotting down observational notes. “Good morning, Orochimaru-sama. Have you eaten?” 

He nods back to her absently, but still perfectly polite. “Good morning, Uzumaki-hime. I’m afraid I’m not one for food in the morning. But Namikaze-san has already provided me with tea, so I am content.” 

She glances over various cups of assorted hot beverages strewn in front of him and snorts. “He certainly has. Well, in any case, I have something for you, before we get distracted again.” 

With a small flourish, because she’s a flashy bastard and always has been, she hands over the binder. “A hundred Uzumaki seals, as promised.” 

Golden eyes snap to her, and even though his posture is as languid as before, his presence - sharpens. She doesn't shiver, because she is Kushina fucking Uzumaki, who is intimidated by no-one, but she can see how someone else would have been. The Sannin’s focus is not easy to bear. 

A pale hand reaches smoothly and very pointedly doesn’t grab the binder while giving the impression that it easily could have if it wasn’t impolite to do so. This man, goddamn. 

“If you have any questions, or complaints, by all means, don’t hesitate to inform me. I didn't have much time to prepare and to be perfectly frank with you, I can’t even remember the criteria I used to choose them. You can choose which ten seals you’d like me to explain in detail at your leisure. ”

He is staring at her, features frozen in a carefully blank expression. After a long moment, he gives a little half-aborted shrug and clears his throat. “I have to admit, you’ve been more prompt than what I was expecting. Paying shinobi upfront is very much not a practice I am familiar with.” 

That’s a good opening into a topic she wanted to discuss with the man. Originally, she’d have preferred Minato be the one to broker this, but with how frazzled the poor man is, who knows how disastrous it would’ve been. 

“Time for serious-talk, then. That's fine with me.” She takes a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Settle. Focus. 

“The most obvious point I’d like to make is that we don’t exactly know the full scope of what we might require from you. Also, and pardon me for being blunt, negotiating with you is not the easiest endeavor. On a purely practical level, we need your assistance, and we can’t afford any infighting because someone feels cheated or undervalued. The situation is far too complicated already, so I would like to, at the very least, make this part as simple and transparent as possible.” She leans back, taking care not to let her hands gesticulate wildly. She wants him focused on what she’s saying.

“So, my proposed solution is, as it is so often the case, to be very crude and mercenary. First, we get the easy part over with, and we agree that the price for your general agreement to aid us was one hundred Uzumaki seals, with instructions on how to draw them, plus one supervised visit to Uzushio ruins, barring the library. Next, I’d suggest we set up a sort of bartering system for additional services - that we’d settle on a case-by-case basis.” 

Important part done, she leans back, adopting an easygoing expression. See, I’m nice and relaxed and a completely reasonable shinobi, nothing odd about this at all. 

 “As an example, and hopefully as the first of many such deals, I’d very much appreciate you postponing the less time-sensitive projects you’ve been working on, and instead spend that time helping us. In return, I’d offer you two original journals from Uzumaki Mito-sama, one of many she used to document her work in Fūinjutsu, as well as her other intellectual pursuits.

“We’d, of course, write down the details of all such transactions, and form a - well - a mix between a ledger and a contract, I suppose.” 

Whatever Orochimaru was expecting her to say, it most definitely wasn’t this. He’s still expressionless, but she can sense he’s greatly taken aback both at her candor, and the unorthodox negotiation technique. Well, tough. 

“I - see.” He drawls slowly. “I will need to think on this further, and I will certainly offer blanket permission - we will negotiate each time, and I reserve the right to accept some and refuse others. However, on the matter of postponing my experiments, as I’m currently not engaged in any specifically groundbreaking research, I will tentatively agree to your offer.” 

Kushina doesn’t cackle in glee, but it’s a near thing. “Wonderful!” She unseals the journals from a sealing scroll on her arm and promptly hands it over. He raises an eyebrow, and she smiles blandly at him. “I was hoping you’d see things my way.” 

It seems that’s the maximum Minato can take, without expiring from awkwardness, so he all but explodes upwards in a flurry of motion, faintly mumbling something about refreshments. Kushina stifles a sigh. Any more kami-forsaken tea might compromise even the structural integrity of the Fūinjutsu reinforced table. 

“Is everything… alright with Namikaze?” Inquires the Sannin tentatively. “Did something happen?” 

Kami fucking wept, if you only knew, you poor, poor man. “Everything is absolutely fine. Minato is just a fruitcake. One gets used to it.” 

He seems skeptical but is content to let it go — for now at least. She makes a note to track down Minato and bash some sense into his head. If he ruins all of their progress because he’s mooning over pretty golden eyes and sharp cheekbones, she will rip out his spine and add it to her horde, goddamn. 

Be that as it may, she has to fix this, and it seems Fūinjutsu might be the only thing Minato is capable of talking about. Quickly and efficiently she draws Orochimaru in a rapid-fire discussion about the art. He’s - surprisingly good. Worse than Minato, of course, and miles behind her, but still shockingly well-versed, what with being entirely self-taught, and with very dubious written sources. Genius, huh. Interesting. 

Minato joins them some indeterminate time later, thankfully without any tea, but with a plate of little chocolate cakes, native from Iwa. She only notices because those chocolates are about the only thing that can even slightly break her focus when it comes to Fūinjutsu. She piles a few - okay, a lot - on her plate for later, all but inhales a handful, and continues her conversation shamelessly.

Unfortunately, their fun interrupted all too soon by the unapologetic Mikoto, holding a stack of papers. “Awww ‘Koto-chan, no messing with the groove!” whines Kushina petulantly. “The groove, ‘Koto, the groove!” 

“First of all, nobody says ‘groove’, and you should be ashamed. Secondly, it’s almost noon, and we have things to do today. Things that include, but are not limited to, coming up with a cohesive plan that Fugaku and I can both understand and follow.” Mikoto has a perfectly pleasant smile on her face that easily communicates her willingness to partake of their flesh if she is crossed. Kushina’s best friend is such a badass, goddamn. Mikoto turns smoothly to the Sannin, and bows her head smoothly. “This is for you, Orochimaru-sama. It’s a relatively complete accounting on the Uchiha bloodline from a biological standpoint - as best we know. There are things we left out, of course, in the interest of expediency, but everything important should be present.”

 Fugaku shuffles behind her, and sits down next to Minato, pawing desperately for more coffee. He finds a cup, which, to be fair, is far from a difficult task, and gulps half of it down immediately. Eyes closed in bliss, he doesn’t groan, but it’s very much implied he would if manners weren’t bred into him over some ridiculous amount of generations. 

Mikoto smiles fondly at her husband and turns to address the others. 

“Regarding the plan: I suggest a two-pronged plan of attack. The main part will naturally be working on the seal matrix. Minato, Kushina, and Orochimaru-sama will be in charge of that, with potential additions in the future if needed. However, we’ve kicked a hornet's nest, and our little alliance now needs political management - which Fugaku and I will take care of. We’ll try and minimize outside interference of your work, and will manage our new allies as best we can.” 

“Fugaku and I’s first task, I think, will be the Hatake. Our goal is to get Sakumo and his son away from the villagers and into the Den — and as soon as possible, at that. I don’t think Sakumo will prove too much of a challenge to help. The man is a seasoned Jōnin, and once he’s over the worst of his depression, he should be clever enough to understand he was just a convenient scapegoat. The most important thing to deal with right now is his son. From what I’ve picked up, the little Hatake is a vicious, brainwashed little genius, who lives and breathes shinobi dogma, and is thus convinced his father is a traitor. 

“As far as I can tell, we can do this two ways. The kinder way would be talking to the child, helping him deal with his issues, and making him realize it’s possible to be human while being a shinobi - which could, to be perfectly frank, take years. The other, more morally conspicuous way is for me to go and break the child - make him confront the reality of his situation: that his father will die by his own hand, and instead of stopping it, he’s actively encouraging it. 

“I know myself, and I am aware my judgment when it comes to moral issues is very black-and-white — so I will defer to you.” 

 Kushina knows Mikoto, knows and loves her sharp edges, but it’s times like these she wonders how a person can be so loving and so ruthless at the same time. Kushina is herself far from a bleeding heart. But Mikoto admires Sakumo Hatake deeply, has done so since she was an itty bitty brat, and she’s so calmly talking about breaking his six-year-old son. It's as unsettling as it is admirable. She glances at Minato and Orochimaru, the first of which looks troubled, while the second has an unmistakable glint of admiration in his eyes. This kind of thing is right up his alley, thinks Kushina. She’s glad — the Sannin respects both her and Minato somewhat because of their sealing proficiency, but so far he hadn’t had much use for the Uchiha. Mikoto’s brand of vicious pragmatism is definitely earning her some esteem in his eyes. 

Fugaku seems content to leave it to them, and apparently so does Orochimaru. On her end, she doesn't know. She doesn't know enough about the Hatake boy, how well he responds to outside input - doesn't know if they can afford to find out. 

She looks at Minato and shrugs. It seems he will be the one to decide. 

Minato’s lips twist briefly into a bitter little smile but smooth quickly into something more neutral. “What’s the success rate estimation of both scenarios?” 

Mikoto shrugs, unconcerned but slightly apologetic. “It’s really hard to say. I certainly won’t be the one dealing with the boy, should we choose the kinder route. That will have to be Fugaku, or alternatively someone like Morino Rina for example. The success of that approach isn't something Fugaku and I are in any way capable of estimating. It will doubtlessly succeed eventually, but I don’t have a single clue as to whether Sakumo will be alive to see it. As for the second approach, I’m reasonably certain I can get the boy to cooperate without too much trouble. He won’t thank me, and neither will Sakumo, but it will get the job done.” 

Minato looks pained. “Darling Mikoto, why you aren’t ruling us all with an iron fist I will never know. But fuck it, let’s go with the second option. We don’t have time right now to help the child ourselves, and outsourcing it seems both cruel and dishonest. You won’t be deliberately cruel, won’t you?” 

Mikoto arches an imperial brow. “I will absolutely be deliberately cruel. How is it you think one breaks a child? What I won’t be, is pointlessly cruel. I will go as far as I need to go, and not a step over that.” 

Orochimaru hums, interested. “You sound very certain, Uchiha-san. You’re a kenjutsu mistress, are you not? I wouldn’t have thought psychological warfare was something you specialized in.” 

Mikoto sits back slightly, turning her gaze to the Sanin. “I am the Matriarch of the Uchiha in a village run by a borderline fanatical disciple of Tobirama Senju. I assure you, the psychological warfare that I engage in daily is far more sophisticated than dealing with a six-year-old Chūnin, no matter how prodigious he might be.” 

“True, but we’re talking about planned cruelty to a child. You’re a mother yourself - shouldn’t this grate somewhat?” 

He’s testing her, thinks Kushina, and nowhere near subtly enough. 

Mikoto bares her teeth in a smile. “Cruelty, I assure you, is not something that comes to me with any degree of difficulty. Neither is hypocrisy - as I would skin alive anyone who attempted something similar on Itachi. Alas, it’s a cruel world we live in. If what Itachi needed to get healthy was a pile of children’s hearts we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

Kushina winces. Mikoto never did appreciate being tested. She’d be more concerned if it were anyone else she was talking to, but it’s Orochimaru, so…

Indeed, the Sanin smiles, delighted. “My mother would have liked you, Uchiha-san. You share much the same attitudes about child-rearing.” 

Thankfully that is enough to soothe Mikoto’s ruffled feathers, and she smiles politely, all talk of children’s hearts forgotten. Sweet Amaterasu.

 Kushina meets Minato’s commiserating glance. Their friends are psychopaths. She clears her throat. “So, the Uchiha will deal with the Hatake, while the rest of us will start working on the ‘Tachi seal. On that note, we’re going to need your input on the lab specifications. Neither of us has done any work in the biological sciences, so we don’t have anything to go on.” 

Orochimaru turns slightly, golden eyes meeting hers. “Building a proper laboratory will be both expensive and will require some time. I assumed we’d be using my laboratories for this?” 

“Ah. Well, money is certainly no problem here, and time is similarly not an issue since we’re more than willing to take advantage of thousands of clones available to any Uzumaki Jinchūriki worth their salt.” She pauses briefly, irritated at how there’s no easy way of putting this. Ah well. 

She clears her throat and continues. “But we’re more concerned about security than anything else. There are no people I am aware of that should be capable of breaching the ward scheme surrounding the compound. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but your spaces have mostly been constructed by the Hokage - and by extension his advisors. I trust you, Orochimaru-sama. But the day I trust Danzou to do anything but stab people in the back for next to no reason is the day I will welcome the kunai in my throat - as I will have deserved it.” 

 Orochimaru’s face is impressively blank - she can't read a single emotion on his face. “I see. One might wonder why you’d be so candid with a student of the Hokage you are so mistrustful of. Will you bind me to silence, against my own sensei?” 

Her spine straightens, as her eyes cool. “First of all, privacy in Clan matters is something we are entitled to, by Konoha’s laws. Doubly so, as this is a matter concerning one of the finding Clans of Konoha, and the princess of the Uzumaki Clan. As an outside consultant, you would be sworn to silence - it will be the main point of the contract. We’re not hiring you in your capacity of a Jōnin of Konoha, we’re hiring you as a private researcher. The fact we’ve discussed as much as we have is only a sign of trust we have in you. All of which you very well know. You’re provoking me - provoking us - and I am unsure as to why.” 

A faint sneer is twisting the lovely lips. “Privacy is one thing, but I am loyal to Konoha and I am loyal to Sarutobi-sensei. I am obligated to report threats to my Hokage by an outside force, no matter how I come to know about it.” 

Rage is rising in Kushina’s stomach. Things have been going so well, has he been playing them? She opens her mouth to spit something back at him, she’s not even sure what, when Minato interrupts her. 

“Before anyone says anything we will all regret, let me cut in for a moment. Orochimaru-sama, I’m not exactly sure where this is coming from, but let’s address the points you’ve mentioned. Number one is that you mislike being sworn to silence, and number two is that you are loyal to Sarutobi-sama, and Konoha. 

“The first part is not something we can negotiate too much. This is, as you are doubtlessly aware of, standard procedure when it comes to Noble Clans. Consultants brought in such matters sign some sort of confidentiality agreement without exception. Now, we’re shinobi, and you’re one of the Sannin, so you’re more or less bound to your word. There is little we can do to force your silence, and even less we are willing to. But we still need your help, desperately enough that we’re willing to negotiate somewhat. If you are absolutely unwilling to hold our secrets, we will adapt by only telling you things that we can live with Danzou knowing. It’s far from how I’d like our interactions to go, but we can adapt if we must. 

“The second part is where I hope we will find our misunderstanding. We have little quarrel with Sarutobi-sama. Or rather, our disagreement is of a political nature and will be resolved with political means. Shimura Danzō is a whole other brace of kunai. He is, or at the very least is likely to be, my enemy. 

“It is not against our Hokage that I would guard myself, Orochimaru-sama. Or, rather, I would guard myself against our Hokage only because what he knows, Danzō knows. And if that’s something you aren’t comfortable with - well. I’d hear your reasons for it.” 

There is real tension in Orochimaru’s frame, and Minato is not the only one to notice it. Mikoto has silently made her way to Itachi’s crib, and Fugaku is standing, expressionless between her and the rest of the room. 

The Sannin flicks his head in an agitated manner, which makes Minato tense further, but somehow aggression bleeds out of Orochimaru, and he resumes his languid slouch. “I would ask a moment to think if it’s all the same to you.” Minato nods, unsure of what exactly is going on behind tumulus golden eyes. 

“Shimura Danzō-sama, you say. Well, you’re certainly right in that there was a slight misunderstanding. I have no interest or aptitude for politics, and I am absolutely content to let Sensei fight his own battles in that arena. As for Shimura, I am not willing to take any direct action against him at this time, but am content to let you have your way. So, I will not interfere as long as your conflict with Sensei remains in the realm of politics. If that changes, you can count on me being your enemy.” 

 

 


	15. of cranes and wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> half of the hatake disaster

Mikoto's POV

 

 

The fraught atmosphere in the room is ostensibly cleared, but Mikoto is not that easily pacified. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins, and she has no intention of letting her guard down so easily. She eyes the three shinobi warily, but it seems that sailing is smooth once more, for all it’s worth. The three are all business, and Kushina appears to be convincing Orochimaru that it’s possible to improvise a laboratory in an ordinary room - with a liberal application of Fūinjutsu. Minato is chiming in here and there, but she doesn’t miss the concerned glances he’s shooting them. Well, tough. 

 

The three appear content to let Fugaku and her calm in their own time, which is a silver lining if there ever was one. 

Fugaku’s back is to her, and she knows full well he will stand until he drops unless she gives him the signal. Which is all well and good, but up until recently there have been no threats of violence within a hundred meters of Itachi, and she would’ve gladly continued that trend. 

With considerable effort, she forces her muscles to unclench and relaxes the stranglehold she has on her chakra. Deep breath. In. Out. There we go. 

 

She moves to Fugaku and murmurs a reassurance. He relaxes slowly, mechanically, and she can see anger starting to enter his eyes. He closes his eyes and inhales sharply, replacing turbulent emotion with artificial calm. “I didn’t imagine the KI, have I?” He mutters under pitching his voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear them without enhancing their ears with Chakra. 

 

“No, you did not.” She is not devoid of anger herself. “Although to be fair, it was present for only a couple of moments.” 

“Well, that makes it okay then. Never-mind. We have a job to do, and it will do me good to get out of the house before I say something we will regret.” 

Mikoto doesn’t sigh, but it’s close. Always something pressing to do. “Agreed. The plan is still the same. I will get Kakashi, and you get Sakumo. We will reconvene here.” 

“Who will stay with Itachi?” 

“Minato, I think. He kept his cool and diffused the situation masterfully. You start getting ready, I will join you presently.” 

 

Fugaku nods as he stands up, and leaves the room after giving Itachi a quick kiss. 

Mikoto rises and moves to the table. Three pairs of eyes snap to her, and she smiles at them politely making no effort to gentle the frost in her eyes. 

“Pardon my interruption, but Fugaku and I have a task that needs doing. I hope you have as productive a morning as we hope to have.” 

“Kushina, Orochimaru-sama.” She bows deeply to them and turns to blank-faced Minato. “Before we leave, I just have one more question. Minato, as neither Fugaku nor I, will be available, and Itachi should not be left unattended, are you willing to stay with him or should we summon some kage-bunshin?” 

“Don’t worry Mikoto,” murmurs Minato solemnly. “He will be safe with me. With us.” 

She meets his eyes evenly, lips upturned in a perfectly neutral smile. “I’m sure Itachi will be perfectly safe in your hands.” 

With another polite nod to the two subdued shinobi and one inscrutable Sannin, she sweeps out of the room to get ready for the task ahead. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fugaku’s POV

  


The Hatake compound is blessedly far from The Den, which allows Fugaku some time to relax and clear his head. He might have overreacted slightly, he can’t be sure. But feeling KI in what he came to consider his safe-space - and so close to his _unprotected son_.. Well. It was jarring. However, the important thing is that there was no harm done. It _was_ badly-done, by any standards, but brief enough that Itachi should not have been affected. The only real ‘damage’ was to their composure, which isn't something to hold a grudge over. 

The day is beautiful, and it's a quiet enough morning that his mood has improved drastically by the time he had reached the Hatake compound. 

  


Fugaku stands at the Gate and takes a moment to inspect it and gather his composure. When it comes down to it, he knows _very_ little about what kind of man Hatake Sakumo is. Oh, he knows the basics - the man is a legend after all. By all accounts, he’s an honest man, honorable to a fault. Not to mention a Kenjutsu master without equal and Head of the Hatake Clan, as small as it might be. Throw in a Summoning Contract with the Wolves, and voila - an S-ranked Shinobi legend. Sakumo Hatake - Konoha’s darling.  _Ex_ -darling, rather. _Whatever_. 

  


So - _nothing_. He knows _nothing_ about the man he now has to talk out of suicide. Izanami fucking _wept_ , whose bright idea was this. He can barely talk himself out of suicide most mornings. 

He tries to make some sort of plan and fails spectacularly. How does one even go about planning a conversation? Talking to strangers was something to be _endured_ , not _planned for_. 

The Wards are up - disappointingly, only basic ones that would alert the inhabitants of the visitor’s hostile intent. Since Fugaku has no hostile intentions whatsoever towards _Sakumo_ fucking _Hatake_ , they ripple, welcoming him as he passes the barrier. 

If he pauses he will bolt, so he raps his knuckles sharply on the heavy oak door of the rather old-fashioned house. A couple of long moments later, he doesn’t hear any movement inside the house, so he knocks again. 

  


The door opens suddenly, and Fugaku’s stomach drops. The man facing him looks barely alive. If Fugaku couldn’t pinpoint the unique White Chakra of the Hatake Clan, he would have to check if this sick, emaciated man is the Hatake Clan Head. Sakumo’s face is deathly pale, with black circles etched under his eyes. His broad frame is hunched into himself, and his body language radiates despair. He can absolutely see why Dai claimed the man was nearing suicide. Hell, judging by the sickly thin wrists and sunken cheeks, he will fade away soon enough even if he doesn’t bother with the extra step. 

Cloudy gray eyes meet his own for a moment before they skitter away, as the man takes a step back and hunches even further. “Can… I help you, Uchiha-sama?” He sounds like he hasn’t spoken in weeks, like every word is physically painful to say. Which, who’s to say it isn’t. _Fucking hell_. 

Fugaku actually has to take a moment to compose himself, so shocked at this wraith that was the image of vitality not six weeks ago. Determination rises in him, even as outrage threatens to overwhelm his exhausted, aching mind. Carefully, he keeps his voice neutral but polite. “Indeed, you can. Can I impose on about an hour of your time? I’d like to discuss something with you.” 

“You - Discuss?” Parrots Sakumo back dully. That _wasn’t_ a yes, so Fugaku bites back a further prompt and waits patiently. They stand in silence for about fifteen seconds before Fugaku realizes the man in front of him isn’t capable of regular conversation. He forces his mouth to a simile of a smile, as he asks gently. “May I come in?” 

Sakumo moves back immediately and walks robotically down the corridor into what is by all accounts the living room. He takes a step inside and stands - as if waiting for further instruction. There is very little intelligence in the dull gaze, and for a second Fugaku despairs of the tenacious, unshakable warrior he used to admire from afar. This fucking village has a lot to answer for. 

With careful but confident steps he moves past the silent figure and sits on the couch. The room is tastefully furnished, with several comfortable-looking armchairs and the large couch Fugaku’s sitting on, arranged around a wooden table. 

Taking care to keep his voice in the low soothing cadence, and movements absolutely unthreatening, he prompts his host. “Would you like to sit down?” As he came to expect, the man obeys him without a word, and sits rather woodenly on the couch, with decent space between them. 

Fugaku isn’t sure the man is even completely coherent, but he has to try. If worse comes to worst, he will knock him out and Shūnshin back to the Den. 

It’s time to talk, and Fugaku almost physically feels his brain jumbling up the pathetically prepared speech. This will be a _goddamn disaster_. 

“Hatake-sama - Sakumo. Sakumo Hatake-san. Sama. Sakumo Hatake-sama. _Right_. I was hoping to ease you into this somehow, but to be frank with you I don’t know how on earth I might accomplish that. Not to mention, I doubt the Sage himself could ease you into anything right now - begging your pardon. So I will just cut to the chase - I am here on behalf of the Namikaze-Uzumaki-Uchiha family.” He takes a deep breath, a blush rising slowly but surely on his cheekbones. He hasn’t mumbled so much since he first started courting Mikoto. _Focus_ Fugaku, for Kami’s sake, _this is important_. 

He gathers the tattered remains of his dignity and soldiers on. 

“We offer the Hatake sanctuary and would like to propose an alliance with our family - not the Clan, as it were, because I stepped down as official Uchiha Clan Head recently. It stands to reason that we - Mikoto, Minato, Kushina and I, are firmly on your side and do not hold you responsible in the least for the unfortunate outcome of your mission. ” 

There, he said it. The second part wasn’t a complete disaster. He may have rushed some bits, but it was mostly understandable. There is hope for him yet! 

The man sitting next to him doesn’t show a _smidgeon_ of comprehension. On some level he must have heard him, his hearing doesn’t appear to be impaired, but it doesn't seem the man is capable of much rational thought. Sweet Amaterasu, he is _not_ equipped to deal with this. He needs Minato and perhaps Kushina in itty-bitty amounts, and to very carefully not let Mikoto anywhere near this absolute fucking tragedy until she is made aware of just how delicate his mind is. 

He breathes deeply once again and thinks frantically. Okay. He sees only one way forward, and it will oh so likely blow up in their faces spectacularly. 

_Dear Kami_ , let Mikoto be successful in taming the little wolf-cub because otherwise he’s kidnaping an S-rank Shinobi and locking him in the same house as his infant son. 

He clears his throat and speaks in what he hopes is a calm and authoritative (and not at all shrill and panicked) tone. “Sakumo Hatake-sama. I have a mission for you.” The man snaps to attention, and Fugaku’s heart _can’t take this bullshit_. 

“Find a sealing scroll and pack everything of utmost value. When you’re finished with that wait for me by the front door. If you can’t find a scroll you can either draw one yourself. If you aren’t completely confident in your Fūinjutsu abilities, inform me so I can draw one for you. Do you understand?” 

Sakumo nods once rather robotically, stands, and leaves the room. 

Fugaku pointedly _doesn’t_ bury his face in his hands in despair, no matter how much he might want to. Instead, he quickly summons a Crane, one that is young enough to still be content to carry messages. The Chakra drain for such a small summoning is average at most, and yet his chakra coils shriek in displeasure. “Chie-san, I have a somewhat urgent message for Minato, Kushina, and Mikoto. Can you assist me in this?” 

The little crane nods its head slowly, slightly alarmed at Fugaku’s unkempt appearance. “I am yours to command, Uchiha-dono. 

He nods at the proud creature, not having the mental fortitude for the usual spiel. “The message is this: ‘Sakumo Hatake is so far gone he is capable of comprehending orders and not much else. He is also dangerously thin and dehydrated. We are sealing up the Hatake compound and I am bringing him to the Den. Limited contact with Kushina and Mikoto, until we can see how delicate his mind is’. Do you need me to repeat it?”  

Reproach should be difficult to emote with a beak, and yet his Cranes always seem to manage. “Not at all, Uchiha-dono. Is the message the same for all the recipients, and in which order should I deliver it?” 

“Yes to the first and ‘doesn't matter’ to the second, Chie-san. I would ask you to hurry, the fate of an ally lies in the balance.”  

Chie puffs up a bit, proud to be trusted with a message of such importance. It will learn soon that pretty much every shinobi message carries at least one life in the balance. Shaking himself to rid himself of such morose thoughts, he spends the next few minutes nosing around the room, looking for priceless artifacts the currently irrational Clan Head might not consider valuable enough. As luck would have it, he comes across a neat stack of standard Konohan sealing scrolls almost immediately. The price-tag is still attached - must be Kakashi’s then. 

Sakumo is wandering around the house gathering weapons and money, which, alright, he hadn’t specified the metric by which to estimate value. He combs over the rooms Sakumo has already been in and seals up the important-looking artwork and artifacts. Even by Fugaku’s exacting standards, the artwork here is _sublime_. It would be a crime to leave it to the vultures. Oh, by all means, they will seal up the compound, but for all his strengths, Sakumo is no sealing master. The wards around the compound are most likely fairly standard ones, that most Jōnin can get around without too much trouble. 

Around two hours have passed and Fugaku now has an arm full of beautiful art, a half-dead shinobi and a wretched heart. All in a day’s work. 

He had ordered ( _Ordered! Him! The White Fang! Fugaku’s days are numbered_ ) Sakumo to sit down after around thirty minutes, because the man’s pallor increased against all odds, and his hands started to shake enough to be alarming. Fugaku finds him exactly where he left him which was just about what he was expecting, and with an internal sigh commands him to meet Fugaku outside, at the entrance. 

 He peers into (objectively beautiful) dead eyes, and can't help but offer a weak platitude. “We’re almost done Hatake-sama.” Not a spark of a reaction. Encouraging. 

“Raise the Compound Wards, Hatake-sama, and key them to your White Chakra.” 

Without pause, the man obeys, and the Ward scheme hums into existence. This, of course, has the lovely side-effect of Sakumo fucking Hatake swaying dangerously, his pale skin clammy with sweat. 

Fugaku steadies the man before he can even understand that he is seconds from unconsciousness. The realization hits him like a kunai to the face, and he heaves the large bag of sealing scrolls onto his shoulder, picks up the other Shinobi, and sprints towards the Den.

Through the haze of worry and baffled anger, he spares enough presence of mind to offer up a quick prayer to whatever God might be listening. The man in his arms is burning up in a fever, and he will not be the one that pushed Sakumo Hatake over the edge. 

  


  


 


	16. incurring future debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... and the second half of the hatake disaster

Mikoto/ Itachi

  


Mikoto feels a vague pang of regret for the lack of need for mental preparation before this task. She knows what she is, and how far she is willing to go, but situations like this always make her aware of the fact that mentally scarring children should be more difficult. However noble her intentions might be, she is going to go break a six-year-old. But. She knows what she is, and how little regard she has for those not already in her heart. Littlest Hatake might one day become a person she holds dear, and that day she will bitterly regret what she is going to do today, but until then, her heart is as even as it could be. 

 

Kakashi is where he always is - training. He chose a remote training ground, far away from the village proper, so there is nobody within a kilometer radius from them when she approaches. The boy is going through his Katas, moves stiff but flawless, and he jerks to a stop when she flares her chakra in the shinobi signal for requesting someone’s attention. 

She’s wearing her Jōnin gear, complete with blades, and her game face is on - not the polite version that she shows when she’s the matriarch of the Uchiha clan, but the cold blank one of Konoha’s Kenjutsu Mistress

 

The boy is a skinny, sullen thing, with dark circles etched under his eyes, close to dangerous levels of exhaustion. Nevertheless, his face is impressively blank for a six-year-old. Mikoto, however, is an Uchiha and knows well how to read emotionally stunted geniuses. The boy is a mess of grief and betrayal and fear. A child, no matter how intelligent, has no way of understanding this situation. She is pretty certain his obsession with rules stems from his inability to process what was asked of him - he became Chūnin at five and thrust straight into a war. Now his only parent, the man he idolized above all others is branded a traitor, which is unforgivable to his little indoctrinated brain. 

 

“Good morning Hatake-san. I have something important to discuss with you. Do you mind taking a break of around an hour, or should I come back at a later time.”

 

Kakashi looks at her guardedly. He knows her, peripherally, as the soft-spoken, beautiful wife of the Uchiha clan head. He knows her in elegant Kimonos and soft Yukatas. The intimidating woman dressed head to toe in Shinobi gear with dangerous-looking blades strapped to her back is an entirely different animal. 

 

“That depends. What is this about Uchiha-sama?”

“While I can’t guarantee anything, as I do knot know you personally, Hatake-san, I will tentatively suggest this might be one of the more important conversations you are going to have in your life. As such, I would rather not have it in a training ground. I swear on my Clan you will come under no harm while under my care. I merely wish for an hour of your time, and afterward, I will not bother you ever again, if you wish it.” 

 

The boy is stumped. She can see his wariness battling with curiosity in his mind, driven very much by his automatic trust in authority figures. The boy was trained to obey people like her his entire life. She will not be refused. 

Indeed, the boy caves. 

 

“An hour, then. Where did you have in mind, Uchiha-sama.” 

“I don’t really mind you choosing, Hatake-san. However, I value my privacy and would, therefore, suggest a tea-house not too far from here. It’s owned by the Uchiha Clan and I can guarantee we will not be overheard. However, if you wouldn’t feel comfortable in the establishment owned by our Clan, we can go wherever you wish.” 

 

The boy tenses again, unused to such blunt speech, or perhaps to adults allowing him to choose. The poor thing is off-balance, and they haven’t even started yet. That’s good. She needs him off balance. He can't fall back to his usual patterns of denial and resentment. 

 

“The tea-house, then. I don’t particularly care.”

 

She nods, briskly, face perfectly blank. He is unnerved by her, she notes. Most people are. Her mask is flawless. She is passable at faking emotion, but nothing shows on her face if she doesn’t want it to. 

They take to the roofs and garner quite a few looks. Mikoto’s been off active duty since Itachi’s birth and hasn’t spent much time in public even before that. To see her now in full battle regalia accompanied by the disgraced Hatake scion is definitely gossip-worthy news. 

She pays the sheep little mind but Hatake tenses to the point of breaking. She ruthlessly quashes the anger rising in her at this mindless cruelty. Fuck them all, and their much vaulted Will of Fire. 

A warning flex of Chakra does little to quiet the whispers, but guarantees they aren’t disturbed until they reach the tea-house. 

 

She sweeps inside, giving the startled staff a cursory nod. They lead them into a separate area, with privacy seals etched into the walls. The staff in the tea-house is made up of civilians from her clan, and they know not to disturb her overmuch when she’s in this mood. 

The Hatake is still wound tight, so he’s not as cautious as he should be when entering an unknown area. Spine painfully straight, he folds into an uncomfortable-looking seiza and waits. 

They wait for a couple of minutes in silence until their tea is served, and when the waitress exits the room Mikoto activates the privacy seals. 

 

“So Hatake-san. I am informed you are a Chūnin and will treat you with all the seriousness that befits that rank. This will not be a pleasant conversation and I will not mince words with you. Do you consent to that.”

 

Hatake raises a challenging eyebrow at her and doesn’t speak a word. She nods at him. 

 

“Alright. The situation is as follows. Your father is a personal hero of mine. I admired him my entire life, and he’s one of the reasons I chose my specialization as a Kenjutsu mistress. As such, it is my goal to keep him alive. My first question to you is whether you want him to die, or not? “

 

The boy goes bone-pale in the blink of an eye and his hands are clenched hard enough that she knows blood is dripping from crescent-shaped wounds. His voice, however, is depressingly flat as he intones words he must have parroted a thousand times by now. 

 

“My father is a traitor. He betrayed his village and started a war and deserves whatever happens to him.”

“I thought you’d be of that opinion, as unfortunate as it might be. While I happen to disagree with you in pretty much every way, I will not waste time in trying to change your mind. I am, to be perfectly honest, only peripherally interested in you. What I am very much interested in, however, is the survival and well-being of the White Fang. 

“Therefore, this is what I propose. You say your father is a traitor, and a monster, and deserves to die. You will, then, have no problem with my family taking him off your hands. I’ve given it some thought, and I think it’s a rather ingenious solution. You aren’t burdened with the shame of having a traitor in your home, and I get to have one of my heroes alive and well, safe in the company of people who admire and respect him.”

 

The boy's composure cracks. There are no lines in his script appropriate for this scenario. 

 

“You want to take my father away? To keep him safe? Why?”

“Why what, Hatake-san? Why do I want him safe, or why does he being safe mean being away from you?” 

 

He grits his teeth audibly, and his hands are shaking. 

 

“Either. Both.” 

“I think it would be obvious, Hatake-san. I greatly admire your father, and I no way believe him to be a traitor of any kind. Rather the opposite, in fact. I consider him a hero, a scapegoat, and a victim, all rolled into one. As for why I want to take him away - by your own words, you want him dead, Hatake-san. Why would I leave a personal hero in the care of someone - anyone - who feels that way.”

 

He’s getting angry now, his blank mask cracking. Panic is entering swirling gray eyes, and his chakra is trembling in distress. “I don’t believe you. You want to kill him.” 

 

She raises an incredulous eyebrow and takes care to not overdo the look of skepticism. 

 

“Well, that’s just patently ridiculous. If I wanted him dead I’d just leave him where he is. I wager you and the rest of the village would drive him to suicide within the month.“

 

The boy rears back as if slapped. “W-what?!”

 

Mikoto injects a note of impatience into her otherwise neutral tone. “Let’s not waste our time, Hatake-san. Hatake Sakumo is weeks if not days away from taking his own life. It is an unforgivable mistake on my and my family’s part that we let things go this far without stepping in. However, things being as they are, there is still hope that we can provide enough care and support for him to recover.”

 

The boy’s pallor increases, however unlikely that might be, and he swallows convulsively. She knows she should be sickened by doing this to a six-year-old. And yet. 

 

“You’re lying. I don’t know why, but you are. My father is fine.“

“I would most certainly disagree, but either way, you're missing the point, Hatake-san. His well-being has no bearing on you considering him a worthless traitor deserving of death. Why, then, do you object to me taking him.“

“I- I don’t- You cant- Why would you-”

 

The boy is breaking apart in front of her eyes. It’s, objectively speaking, heartbreaking. But they don’t have time to be gentle if the boy’s father is to live. It’s not fair to him, of course. Children aren’t responsible for their parents, and Kakashi shouldn't have to be the mature one. But, by the time the boy has worked through his confusion and anger, his father would be dead and buried. So, yet again, the children will pay for the village’s mistakes.   


“I can and I will. “

 

He needs just one more push. It would have to be vicious though. What would… Ah yes. Sage help her. 

“I don’t really understand the problem, Hatake-san. If it’s money you want, I’d be happy to provide you with double the amount of the veteran’s pension you would have received after his death. If he’d be even awarded that, what with the whole traitor tripe this village is peddling.“

 

That did it. The boy is incandescent in rage, and there is a distinct taste of ozone in the air. He must have a lightning affinity, she notes idly. Like father like son. 

 

“You can't buy my fucking father!“ He hisses, more deadly than a boy his age has any right to be. 

She cocks her head, faux curious. “Why not?” 

The boy snarls at her, his Hatake heritage coming to the fore. “Because he’s not a fucking animal!”

Got you! 

 

“No, he’s a worthless traitor that deserves to die. Your words, not mine.”

 

The boy shakes his head sharply as if to clear it. Blood is dripping from his clenched hands. 

“He’s my father and you can't have him!” His rage is an impressive thing. Some children shout and scream. Kakashi’s rage lends him focus, only serving to make him more deadly instead of less. 

 

“So you want him to die?” She asks, idly. 

“Of course not!”

 

Izanami fucking wept, this is a fucking nightmare. 

 

“See, there we have a problem because I don’t trust you not to kill him. I don’t trust anyone who thinks Sakumo Hatake is a traitor as far as I can throw them. And, not to put a too fine point on it, I don’t have high hopes of their mental faculties. So how do you propose we resolve this?”

“I don't have to do anything, you madwoman. He’s my father and you can't take him!” Bites out Kakashi, his chakra practically slashing around him. 

 

She leans forward, intent, face as cool as marble. “ _How do you intend to stop me_?”

 

The boy rears back, and some of his righteous anger is replaced by desperate fear. She vaguely despises herself for putting it there, but monsters can't be choosers. 

He rallies back, desperately. “I’d stop you. The Hokage wouldn’t let you.”

“The Hokage has absolutely no say in this, and neither do you. You’re an adult by our laws, and thus have no right to Sakumo Hatake, beyond your inheritance. As we have no interest whatsoever in your inheritance, you have no case. If he wants to leave, you can't stop him.“   


“He won’t leave with you. He’s my father and he’ll stay with me. He loves me.” The reply is colored by a thin veneer of bravado, covering a frenzied hope that he is, in fact, right. 

 

“Why would he? You hate him. You think he’s worthless trash. Why wouldn't he leave you to stay with people that believe him? That admire and respect him, that would protect and care for him. “

 

Every word is like a punch, and even for her, this is despicable. Nevertheless, she has her mission and she will complete it. She will get him to understand, get him to break the indoctrination of this fucking village. 

 

The boy suddenly sags, aggression bleeding out of his frame, being replaced with fear. He seems smaller like this, trembling wildly, arms wrapped around himself defensively. 

“What do you want from me?” He croaks, exhausted. “Please, I'll give you whatever you want if you don’t take him away from me!” 

 

Sage fucking wept, Sakumo fucking Hatake will take her head for what she’s just done. And with good reason. 

 

“Look at it from my perspective, Hatake-san. Would you let anyone you greatly admire live with someone who considers them trash? I have nothing against you personally, you understand. You are certainly entitled to your opinions, as misguided as I find them, but my hands are tied.“

As she suspected, he latches onto this. Clever child. 

 

“But he _is_ a traitor, isn't he? He started a war! _Everybody_ said so. The Hokage took him out of active duty. His own _teammates_ called him such!“

 

There we go. Fucking _finally_. She is vicious but she’s not a sociopath. The tragedy of this whole situation was getting to her. 

 

“As far as I’m concerned, Hatake-san, everybody who said that is either lying or misinformed. Your father was assigned a mission with such impossible conditions that he was forced to choose between his teammates’ lives and completing the mission. He under no circumstances started a war. He’s a scapegoat, Hatake-san, _nothing_ more.”

 

The boy’s eyes swirl with confusion and pain. “But the Hokage- The war-” 

 

She can’t help but gentle her voice. She has her limits, and the mission is all but completed. “Please, Hatake-san, use your head. You’re a genius, or so I hear. Do you seriously think one failed mission resulted in a war? It was an excuse. The Tsuchikage was unhappy with how the Second Shinobi ended and used the first chance he had to declare war. If you want somebody to blame, blame the Intel department for not providing accurate information, or the Hokage for sending your father on such a risky mission, or the Tsuchikage for actually declaring war, I don’t really care, but your father is blameless.”

 

Kakashi is trembling like a leaf, and tears are streaming down his face. He looks lost and desperate and afraid. But he’s thinking, and they can bring this horror-show to a close. 

“So, father’s not a traitor? I don’t have to hate him?” 

 

She needs to choose her words carefully here. She can’t tell him what to think. Only to think for himself. 

“I certainly don’t think he’s a traitor. And nobody on this _fucking planet_ has the right to order you to hate another person, Hatake-san, especially if that person is your father.”

 

That’s the final straw, it seems, and the boy practically keens. “But why didn't he say so? I asked and asked, and _begged_ him to tell me he’s not a traitor and he never said anything.” 

 

That’s it. She can't take this anymore. The important part is over, anyhow, and whatever else she might be, she is a mother. 

She reaches and yanks the shaking child into a crushing hug. The boy is damn near-catatonic and she has no right to feel bad for him. 

 

“I don’t know, Kakashi, not for sure. But if I have to guess, it’s because he’s a noble idiot who believed the lies the propaganda machine was spewing. But Kakashi, he was _wrong_. He’s a goddamn idiot and he’s _wrong_.” 

 

The boy is openly weeping now, little hands latching desperately onto her uniform, and she rubs a soothing circle on his back. 

A small eternity later, his tears dry but he makes to attempts to remove himself. He lays in her arms bonelessly, as if he couldn’t summon the energy to move.  

 

His voice rasps out, with dull, resigned pain. “Please, no more, Uchiha-sama. Do you want me to apologize? Beg? I’ll do whatever you say, just don’t take my father from me.”   


_You deserve that, Mikoto_. “Oh, child. If there’s anyone who needs to beg, it’s me. What I did to you was unforgivable, and you're well in your rights to hate me for it. But what I want from you is simple. I wanted you to realize your father is no traitor, but he is seriously ill. My family and I want to take him in, help him recover, but there was never any chance of that happening without you.”

The boy laughs a high, unnatural sound. “So why all this?”   


She knows the right answer, of course. But. She wonders… They went the sure and tried way of inflicting pain, for quick results. Could there have been another way? Useless musing, when it comes down to it. She’s not a good person, and she never claimed to be. “Would you have listened to me? You’re a genius, Kakashi-san. That’s a very good thing most of the time, but it also makes you only ever listen to your own counsel. A stranger trying to convince you of anything, especially something you feel so strongly for, wouldn’t even have a chance.”   


Big gray eyes latch onto hers, and they’re so empty that her heart skips a beat. “You succeeded. I’m sufficiently broken. Please stop now. I'll do whatever you say.” 

 

He’s terrifying in his submission. It’s not deliberate, she’s sure, but nothing he could possibly say or do could cut into her deeper than this. And the worst part is, she deserves it. And more. So much more. Well, it’s not the worst thing she’s ever done. Possibly. 

 

The whole conversation took less than half an hour, and she was promised an hour, so she spends the next thirty minutes with a semi-catatonic child in her arms, humming a soft melody under her breath and rubbing circles into his back. By the time the hour is up, the boy is sleeping the deep sleep of the truly exhausted. He weighs next to nothing, and she takes care not to jostle him too much as she weaves a rudimentary genjutsu around herself to make her seem like a nondescript civilian woman and her child. It’s a low level one, that’s laughably easy to break, but she’s perfectly capable of suppressing her chakra to civilian levels, and little Kakashi’s levels are so low he might as well _be_ a civilian. Her genjutsu might not stand more than a cursory look, but that’s all she needs. It’s a disgustingly sunny day, so very inappropriate for what she’s just done. But it’s to her advantage, because the streets are busy, and it was never easier to melt into the crowd, just one of the many stressed young mothers, carrying a child that exhausted himself playing. No monsters here, no sir-ee. 

 

_Fuck_ this village and _fuck_ Sakumo Hatake and _fuck her for being the heartless bitch_ she is. One day, this boy will come to her with a price for what she just did, and unless he somehow involves Itachi, she will pay it gladly. 

 


	17. wolves at the gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a filler kind of. had to be done, sorry. wrote the last sentence and was like, fuck it, this chapter is done.

  


Mikoto’s head is pleasantly blank by the time she and her precious cargo make it to the Den. That’s not to say she’s not  _intimately_  aware of her unconscious passenger. They reach the outer edge of the property and she pauses, irritated. Minato and Kushina need to key the little Hatake heir into the Wards, and therefore she needs to flare her Chakra, which might disturb the sleeping child in her arms. Startled Shinobi react in various ways, and granted, the six-year-old is no threat to her, but she’d rather avoid the histrionics that would follow. She stands there like an idiot for a couple of long moments, and when she’s not struck by a sudden burst of ingenuity, sags slightly in defeat. Nothing for it. She flexes her Chakra and tenses, ready for  _drama_. Gods are good, though. Furrowed brows aside, Kakashi sleeps. 

  


It’s not long before Minato’s clone arrives. It flashes a guilty half-smile at her, which reminds her of the  _disagreement_. Then his eyes fall to Kakashi, and his smile twists into something a great deal more sad. 

He opts out of any questions -  _wise man_ \- and quickly keys the Hatake into the Wards - which should include Sakumo if she’s not greatly mistaken. Good. 

She manages a strained smile for him as they’re moving to the house, which makes him wilt even further. Wonderful. Lost in thought, she’s almost genuinely startled when Minato stops her before she can enter. “It’s rather… chaotic inside.” He murmurs. “Orochimaru and Kushina are by all accounts demolishing the upstairs floor to construct the lab. My original is with Itachi in the living room. If we want to avoid waking Kakashi, I should go ahead and deal with the noise.” 

For a long heartbeat, she can’t believe she missed something so obvious. Granted, no sound is escaping the house, but that’s hardly unexpected considering who made it. Nothing escapes that house unless Minato and Kushina want it to - sound and light included. 

  


She must be more distracted than she’d thought. Sloppy. 

  


She nods at the clone, which promptly dispels with a pop. Several minutes later, another Clone opens the door, and she enters the blessedly quiet house. 

The clone nods at her solemnly, and dispels, his task done. 

Shoes. She should really take her shoes off. Alas, wearing shoes inside the house is bad, but the nightmare that Kakashi fucking Hatake will be upon waking is much, much worse. 

  


Keeping her steps light, she moves to the living room. 

Despite the circumstances, the sight fills her with warmth. The picture they present is a compelling one, dignified, solemn and homely all rolled into one. Minato is sprawled as per the custom, and Itachi sleeps peacefully on his chest, his small form rising with every breath. What’s different, however, is the absence of joviality characteristic to the blonde. He’s still beautiful, of course, but, to her mind, smiles suit the lovely lips much better. The grim atmosphere is compounded by Yuki, watching him in that eerie way her species are known for. The cheerful little snakelet she’d come to know is replaced by a sharp guardian, coiled conveniently within biting distance. 

  


She simply doesn’t have the emotional strength to deal with any further drama right now. Their argument has paled for the most part. It was ill-done, yes, but she is content to let it go and trust it won’t happen again. What little energy she can conserve by taking the high road, she will. The Hatake are her job - hers and Fugaku’s, and she doesn’t delude herself that Sakumo will be any less exhausting to deal with than his six-year-old son. 

  


To that end she smiles at him, trying to communicate her lack of a grudge. His expression is blank, but she easily spots guilt swirling in the lovely blue eyes. She rolls her own at him in good humor and jerks her head in the direction of the crib. Thankfully, Minato understands immediately and wastes no time in depositing Itachi into his crib. Yuki is quick to follow, unwilling to put any distance between her and her charge. With brisk efficiency, he activates sound dampening seals around the crib. Part one - done. 

  


He turns to her, and deliberately glances between her and Kakashi, tilting his head inquisitively. She shrugs slightly, conveying her helplessness. She is as lost as he is. 

He flashes in quick Konohan hand signs  _ally/rest/corner/silence._ A quick nod, and a quickly scribbled seal later, and Kakashi is sleeping on his own nest, encased in a bubble of silence, and Mikoto can breathe. 

She deposits herself into the nearest chair and methodically starts relaxing muscles, group by group. 

“Well, I succeeded Minato - the Hatake boy is sufficiently cowed. Now I will have the dubious pleasure in seeing Sakumo through recovery so that he can skin me himself.” 

An uncertain smile lights his face, and he’s way too tentative for her liking but she’s going take what she can get. She rewards him with a warmer smile, and his own strengthens some. 

  


“How bad was it ‘Koto?”

  


A sigh is warranted, she thinks, resigning herself to the indignity of rubbing circles into her temples. A Hatake shaped headache is making itself known, and she just knows it’s the first of many. 

  


“Bad.” She admits grimly. “The only thing I will have going for me once White Fang comes for his due is that I can honestly claim it couldn’t have been avoided. At least within our deadline. It’s not that the boy didn't want to believe me, he is just too young to think in anything but black and white. Genius or not, the boy wasn’t raised to question authority.

 “As it is, I don’t know what scars Kakashi will bear from this day, but bear them he will.”  

  


Minato places a comforting hand on her shoulder timidly. He is still uncertain of his welcome. 

  


She gives the hand a weary pat. “What’s happening on your end?” 

  


“Whatever it is, it’s well out of my hands. Pretty quickly after you left, it was decided that the right side of the upstairs floor will be allocated to Orochimaru’s lab and one reinforced room for Fuinjutsu. It didn't take them long to come to the conclusion that there were some inconveniently placed walls, and so an army of clones is currently redesigning the available space, as it were. 

As for me, my heart wasn’t in it, and someone had to watch Itachi.

  


Mikoto nods, content to let the conversation die, enjoying the calm, and Minato seems lighter as he resumes reading. 

  


When a small messenger crane comes bearing a message from Fugaku, Mikoto is almost completely recovered. Which is good because Fugaku’s message was everything but encouraging. 

  


_‘Sakumo Hatake is so far gone he is capable of comprehending orders and not much else. He is also dangerously thin and dehydrated. We are sealing up the Hatake compound and I am bringing him to the Den. Limited contact with Kushina and Mikoto, until we can see how delicate his mind is’_

  


Sweet Amaterasu, the dramatics will never cease. Nevertheless, her husband is bringing yet another broken Hatake, and this one won’t be fixed with some good sleep and some emotional blackmail. 

Well, no rest for the wicked. 

  


“Darling, do you mind getting some supplies we will doubtlessly need for our incoming housemate?” 

Minato nods sharply, doubtlessly already analyzing the implications of the rather terse message

“Chakra exhaustion, do you think?”

She nods, deep in thought. 

“Possible. Definitely some sort of mental breakdown. Possible suicidality, although he appears to be very passive. Still.”

He nods, absently, and summons a Kage Bunshin. “Food, then. Food and calm and affection, seems like.” The clone goes off on his errand, and a not inconsiderable part of Mikoto is warmed by the fact that he opted to stay with Itachi. Minato really is the best of them. 

She wrenches her mind back on track. Fugaku is right, she is the last persons who should be talking to people with delicate minds. Fugaku definitely, and Minato. The vicious little Chuunin is far better suited for her. 

She presses an absent kiss to Minato’s forehead, mind whirling with problems and solutions ahead. 

Between one step and the next, she crosses the border of the silencing seal, and her mind shrieks to a halt. Adrenaline is coursing through her veins, and she takes even, measured breaths, blades clutched in both hands. The cacophony is truly exceptional, she thinks, forcing herself to sheathe her blades. She forgot about how chaotic Kushina can be when given the slightest chance. 

  


Indeed, Kushina and Orochimaru are akin to conductors, barking orders at hundreds of clones darting to and fro, with no discernible rhyme or reason. The not inconsiderable expanse of the right wing of the second floor is completely unrecognizable. Kushina seems to be taking advantage of her Clans heritage and is cheerfully ignoring laws of gravity with liberal application of Fūinjutsu. The walls have all been knocked down, forming one large room, and new ones are in the process of being made. 

  


She is almost sorry to interrupt such expert chaos, but she has stray Hatake to think of. 

  


“I do hate to interrupt, but the elder Hatake is on his way and I’m afraid I need your assistance.”

  


Kushina flinches bodily at her voice, and she doesn’t turn to her but hunches into herself. Guilt. Orochimaru is completely blank, but he bows to her with extra curtesy. Interesting. That one will be solicitous when guilty. Good to know. 

  


“Uchiha-sama. We are almost finished here for now, and are yours to command.” 

  


She looks at the man and arches a brow. “My, my, I have risen sharply in the world, to be commanding one of the Sannin.” She replies, desert-dry. 

  


Golden eyes glint at her, amused but not completely confident. 

  


Kushina mumbles something about an errand and tries to flee, firmly keeping her head down, but Mikoto is wise to the ways of guilty Uzumaki. She snags her sleeve and yanks her into a hug. “Peace, Kushina, I’m not angry.” 

The redhead sags into the embrace, and a gaze filled with guilt meets hers. 

“I’m so sorry, ‘Koto. I fucked up.” 

  


“Mistakes were made,” she allows easily. “But there’s no harm done, and that’s really the best we can hope for. “

Her eyes sharpen slightly, even if her smile remains soft. “Don’t do it again, however. Settle your disagreements however you wish, but I will not have KI near infants, sick or otherwise.” 

  


She accepts Kushina’s frantic nod and moves on smoothly. 

  


“Now, if that’s over with, let’s move on to two unconscious Hatake we need to house. 

  


From there it takes Mikoto’s full focus to steer the manic energy that is guilty Kushina trying to atone. Orochimaru is no help at all. If she pegged him right, the man should be almost physically incapable of apologies, even on the off chance he feels guilty. Apparently inadvertently harming a defenseless ally, even if only a little bit, does incite guilt. It doesn’t surprise her - she’s not dissimilar herself. She doesn’t shy away from harming the defenseless, or even allies, but its always for a purpose, never just - collateral. 

  


Within the three of them, they clear the rooms on the left wing and improvise wildly so that they’re more or less suitable to house their two new guests. All in all, by the time she senses Fugaku and Sakumo entering the house, they have cobbled together perfectly pleasant rooms, each suitably equipped with ample Fūinjutsu - from silencing seals to reinforcing the walls in case a fight breaks out. Her and Fugaku’s things are sealed up in a series of scrolls, neatly stacked in the corridor. She’s impressed, Kushina’s beaming, and Orochimaru is delightfully smug. 

  


Feeling not a little pleased herself, she allows a wider than usual smile to bloom on her face. “Thank you.” She murmurs. “I couldn’t have done without you.” 

  


Kushina is quick to beam at her, giddy and manic and beautiful. “Darling Mikoto, you only ever have to ask.” Orochimaru is less profuse, but inclines his head regally, golden eyes glinting. 

  


She turns to Kushina first “Now, dearest, if I’m not greatly mistaken, Fugaku has just brought back Sakumo Hatake.“ She can't help her smile turning into something a great deal more wicked. “Now, since he has specified that I, and to a lesser extent you, aren’t to be trusted with his delicate mind, we’re going to stay here. While I’m sure I cant guarantee to be quite as helpful as you just were, I will nevertheless offer my help.” 

Never one for excessive social grace, Kushina guffaws. “Aw, Koto-chan, did Fugaku finally wise up to your wicked ways?” 

She smiles back, wide and sharp. “Just so.” 

  


Schooling her expression into something much more socially acceptable, she turns to the Snake Summoner, who is watching them with interest. 

“I would ask one more favor from you Orochimaru-sama, if I may.” 

Formality or not, she nevertheless waits for Orochimaru to nod, before continuing. 

“Fugaku didn’t elaborate in his message, but I gather Sakumo is in quite a state. Should it be something more daunting than simple exhaustion, we must know. We can't exactly take him to the hospital, but we can strong-arm Uchiha medics if we have to. It’s important to know if we  _do_  need to. Would you mind?”

  


He thinks for a long moment, but nods in reluctant acceptance. “You understand I am no medic, yes? I can offer advice or my opinion, but I am a scientist, not a physician.” 

  


It’s still a damn sight better than what we have right now. “We are grateful for whatever advice you can provide in this matter.” 

He nods, still slightly dubious but interested enough to play along. 

  


A wicked gleam enters his eyes. “I shall go downstairs by myself, then? I would hate for yourself or Uzumaki-hime to damage White Fang’s delicate constitution with your presence.”

  


He sashays out of the room, somehow in rhythm to Kushina’s wild, unrestrained laughter, and Mikoto is damn impressed. 

  


  


  


  


 


	18. one of Those Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...or a companion chapter to the previous filler. 
> 
> sorry not sorry.

Fugaku

 

The Den is within sight, and Fugaku’s chakra coils are _on fire_. Not that he can help it, really - whatever else Sakumo fucking Hatake might be is, small isn't it. The frankly abnormally large shinobi is dead-weight in his awkward hold, and Fugaku doesn't have a kitten’s chance among the Inuzuka of carrying him without Chakra reinforcement. 

He skids to a stop at the Ward border and curses violently. _Nothing for it_ , he thinks grimly, grits his teeth and flares his Chakra. The man he’s carrying doesn’t even twitch, and here’s Fugaku breathing through the pain and very carefully not biting his tongue. Typical.

Minato’s clone is there quickly enough that Fugaku feels some good-will pierce the layers of _bullshit_ that has been today. Because today is one of Those Days, said goodwill is immediately snuffed out when the clone just waves him in. It seems the Hatake is already keyed in, and Fugaku is just apparently torturing himself for kicks. _Whatever._

The clone opens his mouth to greet him and snaps it shut as he makes out the emaciated man Fugaku’s carrying like a goddamn princess. Thankfully, the dramatically paling clone has enough sense to skip all the obvious questions and settles for flashing crisp hand signals.

_ally/status/stay/silent?_

“Trust me Minato, if I could have woken him, I would have. Talk away.” Bites out Fugaku through gritted teeth.

The clone doesn't quite wring his hands, but the telltale twitch makes it obvious he _wants to_. “You shouldn’t- Your chakra- Could you _please_ let me carry him. I’m worried about your Chakra coils.”

 

Ah. It seems Minato is being careful with him. Not surprising, considering how angry he was when he left. However, what with the constant torrent of rage over Itachi, the annoyance of his own slow recovery, anger at how badly suited he is to the role assigned to him - being miffed at his friends is very, _very_ inconsequential.

 

“Right. One. I love you Minato, but never channel KI near my ill son. Other than that, we’re good. Two. Please take Sakumo fucking Hatake out of my hands before I drop him. He’s alive, but by which margin is still blessedly uncertain. He needs help and he needs it now. Please Kami, _please_ tell me Orochimaru is still here.”

The clone hunches into himself slightly but endures the rant gamely. He nods stiffly, takes Sakumo and sweet Amaterasu, Fugaku’s arms are on _fire_. Fucking chakra exhaustion, he’s as weak as a kitten and dark spots are dancing in his eyes. He used more chakra when he was six and yet he seems to have overdone it greatly. Of course, this is his life.

 

His attention wavers in and out as he concentrates on not letting his fool feet go every which way.All in all, they’re in the living room blessedly quickly.

 

Minato is the first thing he sees, sitting stiffly at the table, ostensibly reading a scroll. He abandons it immediately when he realizes how dangerously Fugaku is swaying and jumps to his feet. In half a heartbeat Fugaku is seated in the nearest chair, having relinquished the bag slung on his back. The pain is bad, but not debilitating enough that it would prevent him from scanning his surroundings at least the once. Itachi - check. His son is sleeping in clone-Minato’s arms, who is slowly dripping some formula down his throat. Next pillow-pile over is the Hatake heir, sleeping with the relish of children everywhere. He hadn't stirred from the embarrassing amount of noise Fugaku is making, which must be a result of Fūinjutsu of some sort. He doesn’t want to think about the alternative - that the father and son match.

Speaking of the father, he’s being carefully deposited on the last available nest. That part done, the clone starts drawing a seal of some sort on the floor next to the sleeping man. Despite his exhaustion, Fugaku can't help but be interested in what the seal is. He cranes his head to see better -

He’s interrupted by original Minato’s frenzied voice.

 

“What- Fugaku- _Shit_ -”

 

Panicked questions stop when the clone, having finished his task, dispels himself with a soft pop. To his credit, he doesn't flinch from the memories, but he curls into himself slightly, bowing his head.

Now that he’s sitting down, Fugaku’s head stopped spinning so badly, so he has the presence of mind to clamp a firm hand on the hand on Minato’s shoulder.

“I mean it Minato, we’re good. I’m not angry. Just don’t do it again.”

 

Suddenly Yuki is there, her cool scales a balm on his overheated skin.

“What happened” she hisses demandingly, worry thinly veiled with bravado.

Fugaku considers closing his eyes and staving off the incoming discussion with unconsciousness. Alas, his task isn't quite done.

“I might have used more chakra than was advisable.” There, he said it.

 

The snakelet hisses at him, alarmed. “You- _More_ \- You shouldn’t have been using _any_ chakra _whatsoever_. Didn’t Namikaze and Uzumaki say you had near-fatal chakra exhaustion.”

“Yes well. It seemed like the thing to do at the time.” He jokes, weakly, hoping humor might dissipate the tense atmosphere.

 

It works, if not in a way he intended. The fight leaks out of her, and she falls silent. Quietly, she wraps herself more tightly around his shoulders, resting her little head on the pulse-point on his neck, as if to reassure herself that he is alight. Guilt settles on Fugaku as a cloak. That was unworthy of him, and, more importantly, of Yuki. He wants to run a finger down her scales, to calm her, apologize, _something_ , but his useless hands feel like lead, and the pain emanating from his chakra coils grows with adrenaline fading from his bloodstream.

He raises his eyes to Minato who seems torn between guilt and worried rage.

 

“It may not have been the wisest course of action I could have taken.” He admits.

 

“What happened.” Bites out the worried blonde.

 

“I'll explain later, first please get Orochimaru so it wasn’t all a waste.”

 

Minato grits his teeth but obligingly summons a clone - not a kage-bunshin interestingly, but a regular illusion clone. He forgets sometimes, that even though Minato is a chakra powerhouse by any baseline human standard, he’s no Uzumaki Jinchūriki.

He sends the clone off with clipped instructions and settles a worried hand on Fugaku’s slightly flushed forehead.

On one hand, he doesn’t grow more alarmed - which is a good sign. On the other, Fugaku hadn’t yet informed him of the pure agony that are his chakra coils so…

 

Orochimaru arrives with his customary grace, and Fugaku is pettily gratified that even the Sannin’s magnetic presence doesn’t shift Minato’s focus from Fugaku.

Golden eyes snap to the unconscious, emaciated shell of Sakumo Hatake and the Sanin stops dead in his track. He stares at the man like with blank incomprehension of someone who doesn’t believe the evidence in front of him.

“I know” murmurs Fugaku, truly exhausted. “The motherfucking White Fang. Nevertheless, he’s alive, if barely.”

Orochimaru looks at him, golden eyes blazing. “It seems you task was more dangerous than your wife’s - against all odds.”

 

“Well, we didn't have all the information, did we.”

“ _Explain_ , please,” purrs the Sannin, shifting his gaze back to Sakumo.

 

Fugaku opens his mouth, furiously trying to figure out where to begin, when a fresh wave of pain crashes into him in a truly inopportune moment. He snaps his mouth closed to bite down on a pained groan, but neither of the two men are unobservant enough to miss it.

Minato focuses. Viciously so.

 

Cold blue eyes meet golden ones. “I rather think we can stave off the explanations for a little while, Orochimaru-sama. From what I understand, Hatake-san simply passed out from exhaustion - both mental and physical. I’d be grateful if you could make sure nothing more pressing is happening.”

 

Minato’s cold tone isn't lost on Orochimaru. It seems to have the unintended effect of interesting the man. Minato’s attitude towards the Sannin is shifting very quickly very often. It must be disorienting to the man.

Still, Orochimaru lets it go for now and crouches down next to Sakumo.

 

“As I’ve already mentioned to your partners: you understand I’m not a medical professional, yes?“ He seems to be addressing nobody in particular, and the competence with which he proceeds with his examinations belies his words greatly.

 

His task done, and with Sakumo out of his hands, Fugaku can finally close his eyes.

Minato is still there, however, and doesn't seem inclined to let him rest.

 

“So help me Fugaku, if you fall asleep, there will be blood. You need to eat and we need to figure out what’s wrong with you?”

 

The thought of food makes Fugaku want to hurl, but he hadn’t eaten anything today, and if he protests Minato will without a doubt find out. Inviting further fussing seems distinctly counterproductive. Nonetheless, opening his eyes is absolutely beyond him right now, so a nod will have to suffice.A sigh and a rustle. Minato stands and leaves, most likely to procure a couple of cubic meters of food.

 

Fugaku settles back, thankful he’s not on a nest but on a chair. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from napping otherwise. Minutes go by in blissful silence, and the raging inferno that are his coils seems to have dulled down to simple, run-of-the-mill fire.

 

By the time he hears Minato’s footsteps approaching, Fugaku is even pretty sure there’s a fair chance he might keep the food down, which is a bigger relief than it should have been.

He allows himself a couple of moments more, while Minato bustles about with the food. With monumental effort, he cracks open his eyes and wearily takes in the ridiculous amounts of dishes in front of him. He’s everything but surprised, and is about to express his exasperation when something catches his eye. Something is off about the scene, and he can’t quite figure out.. what…

 

“Minato,” he asks, keeping his tone perfectly flat. “Is that Fūinjutsu on the Sage-forsaken _plates_?”

 

The blond flashes a smug smile at him, looking almost completely like his usual self. It seems that they’ve moved on. Excellent. Nevertheless, Fugaku _won’t_ let himself be diverted. The blonde maniac is reinforcing the fucking _dishes_ with _seals_. He can't help but eye the cutlery suspiciously. It would be ridiculous but apparently, nothing is to be put past them…

 

Minato has the gall to roll his eyes. “The cutlery is fine, Fugaku, _honestly_. It’s just a more permanent version of a stasis seal that we’ve been using. We seem to be acquiring more and more people with enormous appetites and utter lack of skill in the kitchen. It's completely reasonable.”

 

Fugaku can only helplessly stare at him. Reasonable. Fūinjutsu plates.

Is it him? Is Fugaku the crazy one? Who knows, by this point.

 

He turns to Orochimaru, with not a little pleading in his eyes. The Sannin is unfairly amused, lips curved in a definite smirk. He notices Fugaku’s unspoken question and hisses out a short laugh. “I can assure you, Namikaze, the Chakra cost _alone_ for producing several multi-purpose stasis seals is much too prohibitive for people to be using them in such a frivolous manner.”

 

Minato shrugs airily. “It's not frivolous to not enjoy cold, stale food. It would be _wasteful_ , is what it would be.” He ends with a faint note of triumph, clearly thinking he scored a point in his favor.

 

“Wasteful,” chokes out Fugaku. A startled bark of laughter escapes him before he’s consciously aware of it. It seems to have broken a dam, and he’s powerless to stop the torrent of laughter, only having enough sense to try and keep his head level, and refrain from doubling down.

 

“ _We-ell_ ,” he wheezes, dabbing tears from his eyes “Sage love you, Minato, I’d hate to be _wasteful_.”

 

When he calms finally, he leans back in his chair and looks at his best friend. Playful blue eyes meet his, and there’s nothing for Fugaku to do other than grin back stupidly. It’s not like Fugaku has any stones to throw when it comes to being spoiled. It’s just that Fūinjutsu often comes across as magic to him, and that feeling is usually offset by the sharp cost of every seal - both because of the punishing costs of failure and the ridiculous amounts of Chakra necessary to draw anything but the basics. With Minato and Kushina, the things they come up with on the fly, with seemingly no observable cost - well.. It feels less like a dangerous if esoteric shinobi discipline, and more like Fugaku has somehow befriended two very powerful but mad Genies. Either befriended or married into - he’s been considering Minato and Kushina to be a part of Mikoto’s dowry for years.

 

His mind quietens when Orochimaru glides to the table in that serpentine way of his and uncoils into a chair. “I’d hate to interrupts this - whatever it is - but I’ve finished my examination. Hatake is surprisingly fine.” Fugaku can’t help but level his driest stare at him, and the Sanin pauses and changes track. “Alright, not fine. But physically, he only needs lots of water, good food, and a copious amount of sleep.”

He shrugs an elegant shoulder, his face adopting a thoughtful expression. “The interesting question is how he managed to deteriorate so quickly. I wouldn't have thought it possible. The loss of muscle tone alone… ”

He trails off, a slight frown furrowing his brow.

 

Fugaku can _see_ Minato’s spine stiffening and feels his own good cheer evaporating like so much smoke. After a certain level of notoriety is reached, there are only paranoid shinobi and dead shinobi. Not to mention, Fugaku is a police officer. Head of the Military Police even. Dumping his responsibilities onto unsuspecting cousins is one thing, but if Orochimaru of the fucking Sanin brings a case to the MPF, Yasuhiko will be so far out his depth it wouldn't even be funny. No, he’d be duty-bound to investigate. And there’s just _no time right now._

 

So the only thing to do is to prevent Orochimaru from making a statement too accusatory for even Fugaku to ignore. “While all those questions are obviously important, shouldn’t our first priority be making sure the Hatake recover sufficiently?”

 

Unblinking golden eyes snap to his, more piercing than they have any business being. He is under scrutiny for long enough for Minato to start frowning lightly. Then, from one heartbeat to the next, the pressure eases.

 

“Well then, let me rephrase. And keep in mind, this is just my medical advice. I would recommend both Hatake, but mostly the Clan Head, be under constant supervision. You already alleviated a lot of potential problems by stealing him away and bringing him under the _ah_ beneficial atmosphere of such a well-warded compound. Why, any outside pests would be hard-pressed to cause any damage here. Nevertheless, I’d monitor his food intake and the like. Purely for medicinal purpose, you understand.”

 

The Sannin is looking at him with a wry, cynical twist to his lips and a sardonic arch in his brow.

 

It’s easy for him to judge, snarls Fugaku inwardly. He isn't half-dead with chakra exhaustion, with an infant son that's dying from something that he can’t fix and saddled with another two shinobi he has become responsible for. If he tries to add an investigation against _Danzō fucking Shimura_ , because _of course_ Fugaku can see how suspicious this situation is, the only possible outcome will be everything crashing and burning.

 

Fugaku grits his teeth, however, and bites down on the first couple of replies that he wants to make. He’s defensive, he _knows_ , and he _knows_ that it’s because it's galling to not be able to do his sworn duty. He hates it, down to his very core, but it is at it is.

 

“Thank you, Orochimaru-sama, for that sound medical analysis.” He grits out, more or less politely. He pauses, and debates for a moment if he should leave it there, but decides he can stand his pride being bruised for the sake of clarity.

And just like that, he feels the fight leaving him, replaced by weariness. “I promise, I will get you your answers, as soon as things settle.” He offers, trying to not sound as bleak and overwhelmed as he feels.

That’s it, he reached his limit for spoken word for the day. For the _month_.

 

He nods at the two silent shinobi watching him, grabs the nearest plate of food and stands carefully. “Thank you both very much for your help. Unfortunately, I seem to be having some difficulties, what with the Chakra exhaustion and all, will now have to beg leave.”

Another jerky nod and he turns, not waiting for their reply. Walking steadily as possible takes up every single shred of focus he has, but he manages with only minimal food been spilled.

Mikoto. Just get to Mikoto.

 

She's only one floor up, but it feels eternal, and by the time Fugaku manages to hobble up the Sage-forsaken stairs, he’s seriously considering hurling the fucking food into the nearest wall, and just finding the nearest corner to curl up in. He doesn't, of course, but it's a nice thought.

 

Mikoto. Mikoto. Mikoto. It's a chant, and it keeps him going, as it so often does.

 

He just needs to find Mikoto, and then he can rest.

 

Amaterasu wept, but he’s _tired_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. dig deep in your heart for that little red glow (-we're decomposing as we go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst? yeah. angst. and some plot! but mostly angst. 
> 
> warnings for some self-harm. and like. general sadness and stuff.

Minato

 

Orochimaru blinks at the retreating Uchiha

“I may have handled that badly.”

 

Minato takes a moment to clamp down on purely reactionary anger. It’s not Orochimaru’s fault, of course. The Sanin doesn’t really _know_ the Uchiha. From where he was standing, he only saw a man evading his sworn duty because it was inconvenient. Orochimaru doesn’t know how much it cost Fugaku to stop himself from throwing caution to the wind and following the _painfully_ obvious trail of corruption.

Unfortunately, nothing is ever so simple. Danzō isn’t working alone - can’t possibly be - and the only uncertain thing is the loyalty of his supporters. Still, the man is an uncannily difficult opponent for them to face - while they have to play by his rules. Thankfully, they were slowly but surely arriving at the point where they will have enough power to either upend the whole sorry system or simply leave and be too powerful to _stop_.

 

Additionally, it’s completely unfeasible to expect Orochimaru to avoid all the endless wounds he could accidentally poke. They are all of them monumentally fucked up, and so very easily triggered. It’s more a matter of containing the inevitable outburst, rather than avoiding them.

 

He rubs a weary hand over his eyes and sighs explosively.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. It happens.”

“Still, it’s best to assume that when it comes to Fugaku Uchiha, shirking his duty is just bellow eating his son’s heart on the list of things he enjoys doing.”

 

Minato himself is less worried about the misunderstanding and more about the fact the Uchiha hadn’t eaten. Chakra exhaustion is serious business, and recovery is both arduous and taxing. By all accounts, Fugaku and perhaps Mikoto should be in the hospital for at least ten days more. The fact that they’re up and running is more a testament to their desperation than it is a sign of _health_.

 

At least he took some food with him upstairs, Minato consoles himself. Darling Mikoto will make sure he eats it and gets some rest.

 

He looks despondently over the mountain of food in front of him and asks plaintively.

“Are you hungry by any chance?”

 

The Sanin’s deadpan look is a thing of beauty. 

“I’ve eaten not two hours ago. Which, if I may add, you very well know as you kept plying me with food until I relented. Is that a thing one should get used to - being fed within an inch of one’s life.”

 

The blond shrugs, unconcerned. “It absolutely is. Food makes everything better. And with things being as they are, we can do with some uncomplicated goodness in our lives.”

 

He stands and starts transferring the untouched dishes to the kitchen. “At least it won’t get cold.” He mutters to himself a little viciously. “Useless, my rusty kunai. _Hmph_. What do they know? Somebody needs to keep everyone fed, and it certainly isn’t going to be _Kushina_. And, what, I ask you, should I do with all the barely touched food discarded by moody geniuses?! Throw it away? _Hah_! Not this shinobi, no sir-ee. Not with these little beauties. A little bit of ink and chakra, and _voila_ , a stocked kitchen and a well-fed family.”

 

Food relocated back to the kitchen, he returns carrying a tray with tea and desserts.

Orochimaru is eyeing him like he’s moments away from snapping and slaughtering them all. He must have heard Minato’s little rant. Oh well.

The man’s wariness is not helped by Minato shooting increasingly pointed looks between him and newly produced cakes. Very carefully, as if not to spook a wild animal, Orochimaru reaches for a cake. With at least one person fed, Minato can breathe easier.

 

It’s a _thing_ for him, feeding people. He plays it off as a joke, mimics the behavior of fussy housewives, but sadly, shinobi neuroses are never so benign.

 

It’s not even odd, this particular quirk. Orphan-funds are practically unheard of in other villages, and even in Konoha, they’re designed to cover the very basic necessities. An orphan from Iwa, raised in a village at war with Iwa, well, he wasn’t best placed to complain if some of his funds were redistributed to more worthy candidates. Not all the time, certainly, and it stopped the moment Minato made his name known in some very influential circles, by way of befriending _every single Clan heir_ in his generation. Still, those early years were spent constantly having to make the hard type of decisions, that children aren’t really equipped to make. Decisions like spending all available resources on gear, with the painful knowledge that he will go hungry for it. Because only the strong survive, which meant practice. And practice required gear.

 

So, decisions were made, and while he trained himself into the ground to numb the pangs of hunger, his helpless, frustrated anger solidified into resolve. He will survive, and he will _thrive_ and he will never, _ever_ go hungry again.

 

Annoyed, Minato yanks is treacherous mind away from the dark place he’s found himself in. The drama of the situation is getting to him - he hadn’t thought about his childhood in a while. Looking ahead was always a preferable way of dealing with things. Not particularly healthy, perhaps, but it worked, and Minato is a big believer in practicality.

 

His angsty stroll though memory lane hadn’t lasted too long, thankfully, so there’s hope of salvaging some of the conversation. _Hmm_. Fūinjutsu. That always cheers him up. He grabs a cake - _delicious_ \- and smiles only slightly woodenly at the wary Snake Sannin.

 

“So, Orochimaru-sama, how are things progressing on your end?”

 

Orochimaru relaxes somewhat but is still distinctly edgy from Minato’s mood-swings. He’ll get used to it. _Possibly_.

 

“They’re progressing well enough. Your wife is terrifyingly effective when she wants to be. I certainly hadn’t expected her to be so well-versed in construction.”

 

Minato beams at him. Kushina is awesome, and it’s always nice to hear it acknowledged. “Oh, yes. We built the Den ourselves. There were debates about hiring a construction team of some sort, but since Fūinjutsu was used pretty much every step of the way, from the foundation up, we decided it would be better if we just did it ourselves. Kage-bunshin are a great boon in such menial tasks, so we managed with surprisingly few tries.”

 

Orochimaru relaxes even further, as his academic interest is roused. “I have to admit, the more time I spend in your company, the more I grieve for Uzushio. Loss of life aside, so much knowledge was lost. The cost in innovation is possibly impossible to gauge at this point. Truly staggering.”

 

Minato can’t help but raise an eyebrow. ' _Loss of life aside_ , indeed. Orochimaru notices and has enough grace to look slightly chagrined.

 

Still, people in stone houses and all that. Minato has made enough blunders recently to have no room to judge others, so he takes it in the spirit it was made. Changing the topic to Fūinjutsu is as easy as breathing, and Orochimaru allows it gratefully.

 

They spend a glorious but all too short amount of time lost in seal-talk. It’s nothing like it is with Kushina, which was to be expected because Orochimaru is not a seal-master. What he is, however, is a _goddamn genius,_ and as such, he picks up new concepts with terrifying speed. They’re not discussing anything specific, focused on bringing each other up to speed in their different fields. It works - Orochimaru is working on Fūinjutsu while Minato is learning about human physiology, and they alternate between asking and answering each other’s rapid-fire questions. It’s _magnificent_.

 

Minato is studying a diagram of the Chakra system that the other man kindly sketched for him when a quiet murmur brings him out of his happy haze.

 

“I’m worried about the little Uchiha prince”

 

Well, that certainly caught his attention, _goddamn_.

 

“What.” He intones, flatly.

 

“It’s not so much the chakra-exhaustion at this point. He is deteriorating, yes, and while it’s worrying the rate of deterioration isn’t the main issue.”

 

Orochimaru pauses and shakes his head in an uncharacteristically unguarded manner.

“Let me rephrase. It is the main issue, of course. We are all aware of the fact the boy is awake for steadily decreasing amounts of time. But it’s not what I’m talking about right now. It’s how it’s affecting his development - both mental and physical.”

 

Minato firmly strangles the tidal wave of fear growing inside of him. He takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice as steady as he can. “Itachi is less than a year old. Shouldn’t we worry about development after we’re sure he’s going to be alive for long enough that further development is an option?” Well, that was certainly more combative then necessary, but Orochimaru doesn’t appear to mind.

 

“Not necessarily. Infant development is a very complicated, delicate and interlinked process. The ripple effect from the smallest deviation from the norm cannot be underestimated. Itachi’s body decided to prioritize mental and chakra development over everything else, for whatever reason, and that is certainly no small deviation.”

 

He pauses again, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

“What we need, are scans. This is where I will require your assistance. The instruments in my lab are unfortunately much too crude for the type of precise imaging we will need. I have some ideas about how they could be improved, but in several aspects, they will have to rely on seals.”

 

Minato swallows. He thought, perhaps naively, that if they could fix the immediate issue, the main part of this whole tragedy will be done with. _Nothing_ in his life is easy, however. This should not come as a surprise.

 

“What precisely are you looking for.”

 

Orochimaru hums. “Nothing concrete, right now. It rather exploratory, at this point.”

 

He takes in a deep breath and visibly gathers his resolve.

“I don’t say this to be cruel, you understand. But the fact the boy is alive is a medical miracle. We have to know what this is doing to his brain. Again, the last thing I want to do is to make you panic, but you asked for my assistance, and I cannot in good faith continue without discussing this.

“The child could be aware, Namikaze. I mean, his consciousness could be developed enough for him to be aware while his body is breaking down in pretty much every possible way. Do I need to explain the scope of physical agony he could be in? Because I _cannot_ , even if I wanted to. There are no words, nothing we can conceptualize. We have to know, Namikaze, so that we could _do_ something about it.”

 

Minato’s heartbeat is roaring in his ears, and cold sweat is breaking out on his skin. Orochimaru’s voice has become his whole focus, and anger is the only thing stopping him from breaking down in a panic attack. Anger won’t cut for long, he knows with bitter experience, so he goes through the process of forcing himself into an artificially calm state. Now is not the time to cry and rage. There will be time later. A spar, perhaps. Kushina will help, and even lovely, lovely Mikoto might oblige him with a nice bloody battle.

 

There’s real sympathy in Orochimaru’s eyes. “I do not say this to throw you into despair. It’s not hopeless yet - if it ever is. Uzumaki-hime and yourself are both capable shinobi, and you’ve gathered an impressive list of allies willing to help you.”

 

Sage love him, he’s being comforted by Orochimaru of the fucking Sanin. If ten-year-old Minato could see him now, _and it only took_ \- for fuck’s sake Minato, don’t - go - there -

 

His mind is circling and even the surprisingly gentle words of his childhood idol aren’t enough to shock him out of it. His artificial state of calm is cracking around the edges, and panic is seeping through. Nothing for it. He’d hoped to avoid resorting to this quite so early in his association with Orochimaru, but it wasn’t to be.

 

With jerky movements, he places a trembling palm on a seal tattooed on his thigh and proceeds to electrocute himself with a seal specifically designed for this use.

 

It works, as it always does. The panic is abating, and rationality isn’t so impossibly difficult to grasp. He hates having to resort to this, not the least because he agreed to include an alarm as a part of the design - an alarm which alerts Kushina every time he uses it.

 

He steels himself and breathes through the inevitable splitting headache that follows being, well, electrocuted. It’s painful, of course, but it’s the type of pain he’s well and truly accustomed to. Opening his eyes is difficult, and it has nothing to do with the pain. As nonchalant as Orochimaru is, he’s bound to have some sort of reaction to Minato’s seemingly erratic behavior.

 

Indeed, the man is balanced in a slight crouch, a couple of meters away from his abandoned chair, funnily enough standing between Itachi and himself. His features are blank, but his eyes look bewildered - like he has no real clue what just happened. Which - _fair_. Nevertheless, Minato can’t summon the strength to explain just yet, and he can hear Kushina bounding down the stairs so he can afford a couple of moments to gather himself.

 

She bursts in, every muscle tense, and scans the room for threats furiously. She pauses for a long moment on Orochimaru, but can clearly see his defensive position, and his tactical position between Itachi and Minato.

 

She drops her aggressive stance and is next to him in a heartbeat. “Minato, love, are you hurt.”

Minato’s breath eases even further, and he manages an approximation of a smile. “I’m fine. I just overreacted to some truths. I’m fine.”

 

She watches him like a hawk for a couple of long moments, and when she’s sure he’s telling the truth, she nods. “ _Good_. Then do you want to explain why I just found Fugaku unconscious on the top of the stairs, with pieces of goddamn pottery not _inches_ away from his face?”

 

_Well_ , _fuck_.

 


End file.
